


Silent Voice in the Dark

by Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)



Series: The Adventures of a Mute Bilbo (A Very Long Prompt Fill Series) [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M, Molasses in January would be faster slow build, PTSD, Slow Build, So very very slow build, Spoilers, Warnings in Chapter Titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 33,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've escaped the Goblins of Goblin Town and slayed the Goblin King. They have escaped Azog, the Pale Orc, his Pale Warg, as well as his Orcs and their Wargs.</p><p>But not all of them have escaped unscathed.</p><p>And they have a long way to go before they can rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Blood Spilled in Defense of a King (Gore, and Medical Gore)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingenious_spark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingenious_spark/gifts).



Thorin’s hand snapped out as Bilbo began to collapse, hissing through his teeth lowly as pain shot up side, preventing Bilbo from crashing to the top of the flat rock the Eagles had deposited them onto. And then Bofur was there, quickly lifting Bilbo up into his arms and holding him as if he were the most precious treasure in Middle Earth.  
  
The Dwarves immediately parted for Bofur as he walked to Oin, who was cursing goblins, orcs, and the fact his case was gone when Thorin shook off Fili’s reaching hands and walked over to a flat surface, removing his coat to rest on the ground. And he glared at anyone who tried to protest, though Oin just thanked him before nodding to Bofur, who began to lower a deathly pale Bilbo onto the coat.  
  
Bofur’s actions were punctuated by him murmuring gently in Khuzdul removing unneeded layers, and his gloves, before he began to carefully work Bilbo’s coat and waistcoat off. With all of his action, it was obvious that he was ignoring the blood stain on Bilbo’s hand as he peeled off the left sleeve, carefully setting Bilbo’s two extra layers to the side while Oin cursed at the fact the left sleeve was a second skin of deep blood red.  
  
“He’s going to need another shirt,” Oin stated and Bofur nodded a bit, gently shifting so he could help at Bilbo’s torso.  
  
“I’ve got one he can have,” Bofur stated and Oin nodded before he said, “Ori, lift Bilbo’s feet above his chest. Bombur keep Bifur away, Gloin, I am going to need you to cut Bilbo’s shirt up for bandages once I get it off. Bofur, you know how to help I expect?” Oin stated and Bofur gave a few nods as Ori carefully leaned down on Bilbo’s left side, kneeling and carefully lifting Bilbo’s left leg up, gripping his ankle and shifting to do the same to the right before he stilled.  
  
“Laddie, get…” Oin began to demand when Ori carefully settled Bilbo’s left leg back down, stood up, and ran away from them, before the sound of vomiting filled the air.  
  
Dori rushed after Ori, but Oin just gave a sharp nod to Gloin before he moved down. And let out a series of curses in Khuzdul that had Bofur’s head snapping over, shifting to look, when Oin began to snap out orders, “Bofur, stay there. Fili, I need your sharpest knife that is the cleanest, Thorin, I need you to sit down, and Kili I need you to strip down to your needed things. Everyone else, remove any cloaks or coats you can spare. Bilbo needs to get warm,” Oin stated, staring at Bilbo’s right ankle, even as Kili obeys, handing his coat to Bofur to tuck around Bilbo as the shirt is carefully removed by Bofur, though Gloin has borrowed a knife from Nori to just cut the ruined sleeve off, hissing over the stain and the ruined bandages beneath it.  
  
“If he had a stitch, he popped it,” Gloin muttered as Gandalf moves over, an outer cloak of his own in his hands as he helps Bofur tuck the two clothing items around Bilbo, leaving the left arm clear.  
  
He then reached out and carefully placed a hand on Bilbo’s forehead, closing his eyes in concentration as he begins to mutter softly in a language none of the Dwarves can understand, when Oin suddenly snaps, “Dwalin, Dori, I need you two here!”  
  
It almost covers Kili’s low whimper, but Dwalin is there to keep Bilbo’s lower body from thrashing too much, a low, odd sound of pain coming from Bilbo and Bofur is holding Bilbo’s torso securely as Dori rushes over, obeying Oin’s snapped commands to help hold Bilbo’s legs steady, the older Dwarf physically blanching back while Thorin begins to order those not doing anything into being useful.  
  
Gloin has turned the cutting of bandages over to a waiting Balin, his own hands stained with blood as he begins to focus on trying to stop the bleeding, Bofur tensing slightly as more pained sounds begin to escape from Bilbo, his attempts to thrash thwarted by Dwalin and Dori holding him still.  
  
“Fili, I need a sharper knife. I can’t get the clean cut I need to open up Bilbo’s leg to reset the bone. Stop paling so much Kili. It could be much worse,” Oin stated.  
  
“His bone is sticking out of his skin, Mister Oin,” Kili stated, sounding close to being sick and Oin huffed.  
  
“Yes, yes, and it could be gone,” Oin retorted and there was a strangled sound from Kili that could be an aborted attempt to lose his stomach.  
  
“Easy laddie. Just hold his leg steady for me. Thank you Fili. Clean this off for me,” Oin stated and there were more sounds as Gloin gave the bandages to a waiting Bombur, who begins to lay them out on a rock.  
  
Bifur was quiet, his eyes staring at Bilbo’s face, not looking to where Oin worked frantically, more attempts to thrash being stopped before they could start. Bofur immediately shifted his head, murmuring once more as he held onto Bilbo under Gandalf’s arm, the position odd, but helping to keep Bilbo still.  
  
“Whoever has the bandages, I need more, lots of them. Whatever can be spared!” Oin ordered, and anyone looking at Kili’s face could see that he was slowly growing paler as he watched whatever it was Oin was doing, Bofur’s grip tightening on Bilbo’s torso as more odd sounds left Bilbo.  
  
No one was sure if they could be said to be sounds, even as Gloin began to curse softly. “Oin, when you’re done with that, I am going to need you here. Balin, give him the bandages you got. Who has ruined things? And not anything of Bilbo’s. He’ll need every layer he’s got,” Gloin ordered, and didn’t twitch as both Nori and Ori reappeared at his shoulder.   
  
“Ori,” Nori protested softly as Ori carefully removed his outer coat and then tucked it around Bilbo. It is only then that he shifts out of the way to go sit at Bifur’s feet, staring at Bilbo’s face and knees drawn to his chest.  
  
Nori gets out of the way as well and there is more attempted thrashings, and Bofur continues to murmur in Khuzdul.  
  
And then Oin calls Bifur over, and nods. “You may go be sick laddie,” Oin states and Kili leaves Bilbo’s legs to the grip of the three still holding him and Kili is getting sick where Ori did earlier, Fili already there as Oin talks Bifur into settling and how to hold Bilbo’s legs above his chest.  
  
“Keep them there. Gloin, do you still need me?” Oin stated and Gloin shook his head.  
  
“I just need bandages,” Gloin answered and Oin nodded before he turned to a seated Thorin.  
  
It was going to be a while before they moved, though Gandalf slowly withdrew his hand with a weary sigh, allowing Bofur to curl around Bilbo more. “I can do no more,” Gandalf stated, slowly standing before he leans heavily on his staff, as if he is suddenly carrying the weight of Middle Earth on his shoulders.  
  
And in the end, it is Ori that gives up one of his three shirts for bandages, his outermost layer being the one he chooses while Gandalf helps to wrap up Bilbo’s lower body, though he leaves the right leg free.  
  
In the now mid-morning sun, the bandages on his leg, holding the injury closed, glisten red in the bright light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ingenious-spark for the title, as well as this getting out before Monday.


	2. Fearful Travel

Moving Bilbo was considered tricky at best and impossible at worse.

Gandalf reassured the Company that at the base of the Carrock was a cave where they could rest and bathe with a forest across the Ford of the Carrock to make the litter for Bilbo, as well as a place to collect firewood.

Gandalf also promised that there was a friend close by that they would be able to travel to in the morning light, though he was a notoriously bad host, who disliked a great deal of people at once and Gandalf said, with some amusement sparkling in his eyes, that he was as bad as bear that had a scratch he could not reach. The amusement died a quick death, however, when his eyes lay on Bilbo once more, before he added that Bilbo would need to be carried by someone with steady hands.

He did not seem surprised when Bofur, voice as steady as the mountain, said, “I can do it.”

The shirt for Bilbo was carefully slipped on, Bofur rolling the left sleeve up and over the open gaping wounds on Bilbo’s left arm before he began to carefully wrap Bilbo up in Gandalf’s cloak, upon Gandalf’s insistence (the Wizard not looking like he was missing the cloak at all), though Bofur left Bilbo’s left arm as well as his lower right leg free upon Oin’s quiet instruction.

Bofur then carefully curled Bilbo’s arm over his chest so his hand was loosely resting on his shoulder and took a deep, steadying, breath, once more looking like his proper self.

Bombur had Bofur’s mattock and Bifur watched him with gentle eyes as Bofur held Bilbo securely to his torso, earning a soft whimper from Bilbo that made Bofur flinch slightly before his arm hooked under Bilbo’s knees and lifted, standing there with Bilbo carefully bundled up in his arms. Bilbo twitched a little in his sleep, but Bofur murmured softly and quickly moved so the others could retrieve their spared cloaks and coats, Kili tugging on his coat sharply before he handed Thorin his.

Everyone in the Company ignored how Fili was supporting Thorin or how Kili began to help him.

They probably thought they were being subtle and it spoke of how much pain Thorin actually was in that he was allowing them to do this at all. Gandalf gave a nod at the gathered Company and began to make his way down. Balin followed, with Dwalin behind. Oin cast a worried glance at both Thorin and Bilbo (though his eyes lingered more on Thorin then Bilbo, probably worried that Thorin had hidden injuries from him) before he went down, followed closely by Gloin.

Nori was soon after, Ori behind him and Dori at Ori’s back. It was only then that Bifur led them down. Bofur let out a low sigh and, with Bombur’s steadying hand on his shoulder, began to walk down the steep stone steps, Bilbo’s head towards the Carrock itself, his feet to the open air.

And then Fili, supporting Thorin began to head down the steps, with Kili acting as their stabilizer.

It was going to be a long, and tiring, journey down to the base of the Carrock.

But it would put the injured in a safe, defensible, place and that was worth the slight fear the Company had in moving the injured down the steps.

*~*~*~*

Bofur was singing lowly as he gently settled Bilbo on the ground, Oin giving everyone a thorough check-up before he turned his attentions back to the two most injured of the Company. “He’s going to be broken,” Bifur rumbled lowly in the only language he knew now, even as he settled at Bilbo’s feet and once more had the unconscious Hobbit’s feet on his lap, remembering how to do it properly.

“I know,” Bofur returned in the same language and gently ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, making sure that the borrowed cloak was tucked firmly around Bilbo with his free hand before he stood up, hefting up his mattock.

“Who is going to go collect the wood for the litter and the fire?” he called in the Common Tongue.

No one questioned him joining while Bombur and Bifur stayed behind. Though, quite a few questioned why Nori was going, until he held up a ball of twine. “You got a splint in there?” Bofur teased lightly as Nori continued to produce balls of twine from hidden pockets.

Nori laughed a bit, even as Oin finished with the last of the quick check-overs, leaving Gloin to watch over them. “Bofur, do you know how to make a splint? And do you still have your whittling knives?” Oin asked and Bofur grinned before answering, “I can learn and always. Goblins never really got to me.”

“You’ll learn fast,” Oin promised and Bofur gave a jaunty salute.

It was time to go be useful.


	3. Awakening (PTSD Mention)

Bofur wrapped his arm securely around Bilbo’s torso, right to left, eyeing Oin slightly.

The splint had been affixed to Bilbo’s leg once Oin had thorough cleaned every wound on Bilbo that was exposed with the cold water of the river, which had sent Bilbo trying to thrash again, though they were all prepared and Kili was able to help hold Bilbo still this time and even was able to help properly splint Bilbo’s leg, though Oin explained that it was a bit more serious and the likelihood of Bilbo walking with a limp for the rest of his life if it didn’t heal right was still high, especially as Oin did not have his case.

Bofur resisted the urge to smack the healer upside the head at all the complaints, soft though they were.

The case was gone and they could not retrieve it.

“Once we get some water into him, I’ll need to see if I can wake him up so we can check for any hidden injuries. I need to know what hurts,” Oin stated, even as he carefully held Bombur’s ladle, which had been thoroughly cleaned out and washed, scrubbed with a fearsome dedication by Bombur and would have probably carefully slipped the water through Bilbo’s lips slowly if Oin hadn’t pointed out someone would need to make sure Bifur didn’t attack a well-meaning healer if Bilbo woke up suddenly and tried to inhale the water instead.

Bofur hand a gentle hand resting on Bilbo’s throat and Oin began to _slowly_ pour water through Bilbo’s lips, Bofur massaging Bilbo’s throat with rusty ease, the Hobbit swallowing automatically.

It took some time, and Gloin had a fire going long before Bilbo was finished with the half a ladleful of water and they carefully lay Bilbo back down once reassured all the water had entered Bilbo’s stomach, Bofur frowning slightly over the fact that Bilbo hadn’t awoken in all that time, not even stirring and even Oin frowned a bit at that.

When they lowered Bilbo onto the ground, Oin searched through his hair, carefully, but it was obvious from the relief on Oin’s face said there was nothing he missed when the obvious was more pressing. He then pulled back and they carefully removed Bilbo from Gandalf’s cloak, and then carefully unbuttoning Bilbo’s shirt, carefully slipping Bilbo’s left arm out of the sleeve, Bofur frowning a bit at the bruising that decorated Bilbo’s torso now, as well as the pale scars that stood out, two of which looked were jagged, on his right side, as if something had tried to rip into him, while those on his left was like someone had taken a knife to his side and stuck a few lucky strikes.

As Bofur reached out to carefully ease Bilbo’s right arm out of the sleeve, Bofur was suddenly stopped by a strangled sound and a mittened hand grasping his wrist.

Bofur’s eyes snapped up to Ori’s relieved face, though his eyes are locked on where Bilbo’s arm rested. “I’d not do that Mister Bofur,” Ori stated, ignoring Dori’s hiss of, “Ori, leave them be!”

“Do what Ori?” Bofur asked.

“Pull Mister Bilbo’s arm through the sleeve. Not unless you want him screaming soundlessly and trembling badly. The soundless screaming is a sight that I’d rather not witness again,” Ori stated and Bofur can feel the way everyone is staring at him, until Kili calls, “Right arm, a Hobbit hand length above?”

“Yes,” Ori answered.

“That’s a bad spot to touch. Kili set him off on accident in Rivendell,” Fili added.

“It was the cold too. He was already not fully with us. Bad luck had me touching that spot. I was just trying to get his attention, because he hadn’t heard me,” Kili retorted.

“You shouldn’t have touched him at _all_!” Fili snapped.

Kili grumbled, but Ori had released Bofur’s wrist and backed off a bit. “He’ll get up fast if that is what you want, he just won’t be…here,” Ori added softly and Bofur would have asked Gandalf about the cause, were he here, while Oin stared at Bilbo, obviously debating.

“How badly does he react?” Oin asked and Ori recoiled slightly.

“Badly. He doesn’t strike out, but he might stop breathing a bit. And he needs someone to talk him back down,” Fili called, all three ignoring how the Company watched them, except Bifur, and Bombur, who were eyeing Oin warily and Bofur, who was staring at Bilbo’s face, tugging at braids that were slowly coming undone.

“That night Ori came to get me, wasn’t it?” Bofur asked softly and Ori nodded.

“We knew you’d be best. You protected him once already,” Ori explained.

“If you’re careful with the water, such as washing out his hair, it might wake him up gently enough. He’d have good memories that would reach, wouldn’t he?” Fili called.

“Aye,” Bofur answered quietly and Oin nodded. They were careful to move Bilbo near the river’s edge.

The first touch of cold water, however, had Bilbo up and panting. Bofur murmured soothing things, running a hand over ruined braids before he had Bilbo focused on him, eyes dazed.

Since he relaxed upon registering Bofur to be Bofur, the Company relaxed.

Because if he could regain consciousness, even for a short time, he would be fine.

Now, if only Thorin would let Oin actually _look_ at his injuries more closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is short.
> 
> I really am.
> 
> They should start travelling in the next chapter.
> 
> Which will be a longer chapter.
> 
> Hopefully.


	4. Concern (Graphic Description of Past Child Death)

Dwalin easily, and subtly, steadied Thorin as they followed the path Gandalf led them on as he dropped back to check up on the other injured party, who was once again asleep, but…

The sounds that Dwalin hated more than orcs were once more leaving the Halfling’s form, Bifur’s hand surprisingly gentle as he growls at the little one in their tongue while Bofur and Bombur carry the litter easily.

But Bilbo’s sounds were tiny little things, small in the forest, but they ignited every protective instinct Dwalin had, remembering a sister that no longer walked Middle Earth, but awaited her big brothers in Mahal’s Mountain Hall, quite possibly causing all sorts of trouble as she had in life, her youth and brilliance a shining gem awaiting them so she could tug on Balin’s beard, and crawl on Dwalin’s shoulders, poking at the new tattoos and silently demanding their stories.

It did not help that the sounds that came from the Halfling sounded like her last moments as well, the infection that had set in around the wound from the Orcs on the road taking her from them, the sounds that had passed her lips an hourly reminder of Dwalin’s failure to protect that which he treasured most.

It did not help that the Halfling had her eyes, _Malin’s_ eyes, and that had scared him a bit, made his heart clench, to see those bright eyes staring up at him, nervous and uncertain, that small shadow, but bright too. And on the road, after the Halfling’s sprits picked up, when he eased, when Bifur pulled him in…

It was like watching Malin, especially when the hands flew, and the small, shy smile and the way he moved, curious and cautious and wanting to know, but unsure of how to ask.

And the sounds were starting up again and Dwalin feels his heart clench, because it feels like he failed all over again (but he did, didn’t he? Thorin was injured, Thorin had nearly _died_ , and it had been his fault, once more nearly losing that which he treasured most to Orcs).

He glances over when Balin touches his arm, for despite his thoughts his guard has not laxed and Balin gives him a gentle, and understanding, smile before he walked forward to catch up with Thorin.

“Atkâtsanaz,” a voice whispered and Dwalin’s head snapped over to look, realizing it was Bifur who had said it, soft and gentle.

Bilbo is reacting a bit, his hands twitching, trying to form words, and Dwalin forces his eyes away from the scene (one that is barely there, when he remembers Balin bending over Malin, trying so hard to figure out what she wants to say while their baby sister slowly dies from Orc poison) and, before he can stop himself, Dwalin was already rumbling out a gentle, “Oin, the Halfling’s up and in pain.”

The curse Oin gave was brilliant, but Dwalin doesn’t bother to remember it.

He’ll come up with new ones to distract him from memories that hurt far too much while being a balm at the same time.

*~*~*~*

Dwalin is helping to hold the Halfling still again while Dori pins Thorin to the ground, Gloin and Kili taking care of the Halfling while Oin and Balin take care of Thorin. Gloin is frowning over Bilbo’s arm, the cuts red and swollen slightly. Bilbo thrashes a bit, but the Halfling makes more sounds, and Dwalin holds on tighter.

_Malin twists in his arms, trapped in a fever dream, and he sings the songs she loves, of silver mines and gleaming, glittering, gems and how they shine. He sings the songs that keep her distracted from the pain._

_He knows only sad songs of Erebor and they will not distract her now._

The Halfling winces and Gloin frowns a bit over Bilbo’s arm, trying to clean it off more, trying to do what he can for the small little being.

_The Healer is trying; all the Healers are, for girls are precious, and one that has expressed a desire for children even more so._

The Halfling makes more sounds, trying to escape their grasp, trying to pull out of their grip, his eyes wide and taking a tint of brightness that is unnatural, but Dwalin yanks his eyes away from the Halfling, even when he feels the Halfling relax, though still trembling slightly, in his grip.

_It is during a time of clear thought that Malin tells Dwalin, not Balin, **why** she has so desired children so, even when she showed far more interest in the silversmiths than the children._

**_I wanted to give you sister-sons, big brother. I wanted to give you, and Balin, the greatest sister-sons you could ever hope for._ **

The Halfling suddenly makes another sound, that might as well be a scream in Dwalin’s ears and he catches Bilbo’s wrist when he tries to hit Gloin.

Doing _that_ would result in a broken hand, most likely, and a Burglar with broken hands is useless.

_Malin begins twisting again in his arms and then she makes a soundless cry before stilling in his arms, unconscious._

_Dwalin never stops holding her until Balin carefully pulls him away to eat, swearing to stay with Malin._

Dwalin feels the Halfling slump against his chest, his breathing a reassuring sound and Dwalin glances at Gloin before lying Bilbo back down on the litter, fingers pressing gently against Bilbo’s pulse point on his wrist before he steps away, letting Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur crowd around him.

_He comes back and goes back holding Malin._

_He is still holding her when her chest stops moving and she suddenly becomes unnaturally quiet, a quiet that does not belong to her, despite being silent all her life, realizing only now how loud her breathing was, now that it is gone._

It had been many years after that night for Dwalin to admit that he was glad that Malin had never woken up.

“Mister Dwalin?” Kili called softly and Dwalin looked at him.

“Uncle’s being stubborn,” Fili whispered.

Dwalin immediately squared his shoulders and marched over to Thorin.

He had already lost someone he treasured above all to Orcs and Mahal strike him down if he would let it happen again so long as he could do something against it.

*~*~*~*~*

Balin is quiet as he sits, watching the flames of their campfire, Gandalf reassuring them that his friend is close. They have a hot meal starting that can be cooked on a spit, and Bilbo is resting, awake (thought barely) against Bifur, who is fixing his braids.

It makes Balin smile a bit.

_He smiles down at Malin and scoops her up into his arms. Their mother’s health was grave after having had Malin late in life, remarrying after Fundin’s death to the surprise of many (but Balin, nor Dwalin, are among them)._

_But she is their little sister, so small in Balin’s arms and, somehow, always smaller in Dwalin’s. She reaches out and gently tugs his beard, and he laughs, before settling on the ground, with Malin in front of him. And then, he begins to carefully undo her braids before he redoes them, fingers slipping and fumbling a bit before he gets it right._

_His smile is gentle, and maudlin, because he is copying from what he remembers of a little girl, long grown, and long since focused on her craft._

_“Are you sure you want to be a mother?” he asks, voice gentle as he sees the way her eyes are locked on the forge they are close to._

**_Yes._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I am so sorry.
> 
> This is what came out of everything.
> 
> (Seriously, I have hidden Dwalin feels. And that had some to do with headcanon and some with them travelling and stopping to rest their injured)
> 
> Atkâtsanaz means, according to my research, "silence of pure origin"
> 
> Basically, Pure Silence.
> 
> Three guesses who just got their Dwarf name, and the first two don't count.
> 
> Also, most of this wrote itself. I was just going to write Dwalin and how he's protective of children, all Dwarves are, but he wants to be a father and such, and that's why he's so protective of Fili and Kili and Ori (the war hammer).
> 
> And then...it wrote this.
> 
> MY BRAIN CREATED MORE ANGST!!!
> 
> Why?
> 
> *curls up in a corner and hides*
> 
> I so did not mean for that to happen.


	5. Fireside Musings (mention of Near Torture)

They had settled for the night, unable to continue, and Nori, quietly, watched the rest from his spot as he sharpened one of his knives. Over to the side, Bifur braided his adoptee's hair, fixing what he could. Dwalin was, once again, running a thumb along the earring in his right ear, something he always did right before he ate, or right before bed, as if needing to make sure that it was still there, and Balin was just watching the flames while a couple of rabbits were being cooked over the fire.

Bombur kept glancing nervously over at where Bifur and Bilbo were, while Bofur was whittling, though his eyes kept darting over to Bifur and Bilbo. Oin was resting against Gloin, obviously feeling tired, but eyeing Balin worriedly, while Gloin stared at the locket in his hand. His eyes fell to Thorin, Fili, and Kili, the two boys (because that's what they were) not subtle at all in their concern. But neither was Thorin.

Finally, he looked over to where Dori and Ori were, his hands  _aching_ to grab Ori and yank him close, and curl around him and make sure that he was unharmed.

They had nearly fallen, nearly  _died_.

He _almost_  had to watch Ori get tortured and Nori knew, knew like he knew an easy mark, that Ori would have been shattered, mentally, beyond all reach if it had come to pass.

For that alone, Nori would lay his life down for Thorin.

He watched the way Dori fussed and Ori whined, trying to pull away.

But he did not do as Dori did.

Because, while Dori kept Ori safe by mother-henning him to the point of near-smothering, Nori protected them as he always protected those he loved.

By keeping his distance.

He frowned a bit and tested his knife blade, carefully, before he returned it to its sheath, hidden up his sleeve. He watched Ori, the way he fought Dori's grip, but not as fiercely as before nearly plummeting from a tree, and he brought out his other knife, sharpening it. His eyes wandered around (he found the Wizard, but he let the Wizard slide out of his mind; he was not a threat) and he focused on Ori again.

Ori, who had managed to fight his way free of Dori, was now quietly bemoaning the loss of his knitting needles.

Nori's eyes flickered over to where Bifur's hands were jittering slightly against Bilbo's hair (neatly braided once more), and he knows he should say something to Bofur, or Bombur, but he says nothing. Ori is not in the cross-fire and the less they think of his thieving skills, the less he has to worry about someone knifing Ori (or Dori) in some back alley.

He tests the sharpness as Kili unfolds from where he was sitting next to Thorin and walks over to Bofur, tapping his shoulder as he walks past, small and subtle, that has Bofur looking up, his eyes immediately resting on Bilbo and Bifur.

He's up and pocketing whatever he was whittling and his whittling knife before he is sitting next to Bilbo, in front of Bifur, and Bilbo is out of Nori's sight, but the little Halfling isn't a threat to Ori, so he lets his eyes slide away again, flickering around the Company.

Once the rabbits are finished cooking, he thinks he can sneak his portion to Ori without anyone, especially Dori, noticing.

After all, he did it with the green food in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nori finally stopped being a stubborn starfish head.
> 
> We should get back to actual travel next chapter.


	6. The Bear

It is discovered the next morning that an infection has set into Bilbo's left arm.

Bifur is being held, gently, by Bombur, and Bofur is wincing as he pulls his hand away from the inflamed left arm, the stark red a burning brand against the palness of Bilbo's skin. Thorin is faring only a little better, and Oin is worries over Bilbo's leg before he glances at Gandalf. "We should be there by mid-afternoon...if we are quick about it," Gandalf stated and Bilbo, taken care of already this morning and back on his litter, is being stared at by Bofur.

"How fast can we travel without the litter?" he asked, earning startled looks from everyone.

Oin frowned. "His leg needs to be above his chest," Oin stated.

"What good will it do if we can't get to a place of safety, and help, before infection makes it so he must lose the arm?" Bombur corrected carefully.

Bifur stilled in Bombur's arms, but that had everyone stilling as well. "If we don't move fast enough, there is risk of him losing his arm, and the leg. You know that Oin. How fast can we move without the litter?"

It was, surprisingly, Thorin who asked this.

"Faster. Possibly fast enough for Gandalf's standards," Oin answered, reluctantly.

"Then we move without the litter. Bofur, keep up," Thorin ordered and Bofur nodded before he eased Bilbo into his arms and lifted, once again cradling Bilbo to his chest.

Then the Company was rushing off, as if Morgath’s wargs were at their heels.

*~*~*~*

Bofur smiled when Bilbo woke up as they neared midday, still on the move, only slightly disoriented, and Bofur tightened his grip on the Hobbit as Bifur made sure he didn’t stumble as a dip in the ‘road’ that Gandalf was leading them down. “How are you doing Bilbo?” he asked softly as they came to a stop, the midday sun dappling through the trees.

 _“Tired, hurt,”_ he signed carefully, his left hand stuttering and Bofur gently tapped his forehead against Bilbo’s before he looked up to find that they were staring at him.

“He’s up,” he stated and Oin carefully moved forward, uncurling Bilbo’s arm from his chest to inspect the inflamed injuries.

He cursed a bit and Bofur murmured soothingly as Oin began to inspect in the infection. He frowned and huffed before Oin carefully returned Bilbo’s arm to how it was curled over before, Bilbo shaking slightly as he buried his head into Bofur’s shoulder. “Someone else will need to carry him. Your body needs the rest,” Oin stated.

Bofur was about to protest when Dori stepped forward. “I know how to carry the severely injured,” he promised and gave Nori a warning look when he opened his mouth to argue, Nori shutting it immediately at the look, which earned a smile from Ori.

Transferring Bilbo is difficult, but with Bilbo, slight as he is, gone from Bofur’s arms, Bofur feels muscles he didn’t know were straining relax.

As much as he hates to admit it, it was probably best to have someone else carry him.

They don’t pause for food, instead just running off once more, Bofur using his mattock to help keep his balance, worried eyes locked on Bilbo’s curls.

*~*~*~*

It is nearly sunset when Gandalf calls them to a stop and, through the trees, they can see a light leaving an entrance of a hall. “I am going to need Bilbo, Master Dori,” Gandalf stated and Bofur tensed.

“What?” Bofur asked and Gandalf turned to him.

“My friend does not like lots of visitors all at once. To convince him, he will need to understand that we are in need of help, though he will be quite inclined to help us due to our trouble with the orcs and wargs, and in the killing of the Great Goblin, he will be more inclined when he sees the injured members of our party. We will need to keep to small groups of twos and threes, though I would prefer twos,” Gandalf explained, calmly and with ease.

Thorin also looked ill inclined to allow the Hobbit to go with Gandalf before he gave Dori a nod, the strongest Dwarf of the Company handing Bilbo over, surprised when Bilbo woke briefly, blinked up at Gandalf, and then buried his head into Gandalf’s shoulder. “A fever has set in, a small one. With rest and willowbark tea, he’ll be right as rain,” Gandalf stated calmly and soon they sorted out who was going when, with Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur _last_ , much to their displeasure.

In truth, it should be Bofur and Bifur, with Bombur last on his own, but the three rather disliked being separated by such a margin from their adoptee, though Bofur’s eyes held a hint of desperation to them that seemed to be all encompassing almost; an odd sight for the usually very jovial Dwarf, as if something far too precious to name had just been stolen from him.

Gandalf, however, is walking into the great hall and, at the discussed intervals, the rest of the Company enters, Gandalf’s rolling voice leaving the doorway, slowly the Company entering to see Beorn, a great mountain of a man, sitting there.

His eyes, however, kept looking between Thorin and Bilbo, along with running a hand over his face, as if contemplating something, though he often seemed to breathe in deeply, as if trying to smell the air. He nodded and then smiled. “Any who have fought orcs and wargs, and goblins are welcome here. Enemies of my enemies are friends of mine,” he greeted warmly and stood.

“Now come, my new-found friends! There is food to be had,” he stated and led the way inside.

All of the Dwarves saw the relieved stance Gandalf took, right before he delivered Bilbo into a waiting Bofur’s arms. “I believe Bilbo will be far more comfortable with the family of his heart, than near Beorn,” Gandalf stated and strode after Beorn, leading the way to where food waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *glares at the chapter*
> 
> It wrote itself, but only after I talked it out of being 343 words long.
> 
> It was a pain.
> 
> I shall ruin it later.


	7. Bread, Cream, and Honey

Bilbo clung to Bofur as four white ponies and big grey dogs began to trot around, bringing forth tables and benches and chairs. Beorn eyed Bilbo on occasion, which made Bilbo tense, fighting every instinct he had to  _hide_.

He couldn't hide, however, his instincts torn over what to hide  _as_ and he buried his head back into Bofur's shoulder, feeling ill. Bofur murmured in the tongue of Dwarves (the name was once again slipping from Bilbo's mind). "Can you sit up for me Bilbo?" Bofur asked, his voice gentle and pleading and that was enough to have Bilbo nod, hand trembling, as he signs,  _"Try."_

"That's good enough, Bilbo, that's...don't shake your head at me, that's good enough, just try," Bofur reassured gently as Bilbo felt himself lowered onto a bench, shaking his head in protest at Bofur's words, but stopping at Bofur's gentle correction.

One of Bofur's arms was wrapped securely around him as they were settled at the table and Bifur is next to him, the warrior-toymaker already getting food onto Bilbo's plate. Bilbo tried to perk up, sit up on his own, but Bofur murmured gently, soothingly, his hand running over Bilbo's braids. "Please, please, don't push," Bofur whispered softly and Bilbo just nodded tiredly, relaxing against Bofur.

He was tired and his arm burned and he wanted to sleep, but didn't at the same time. When he slept, he thought he heard the hunting calls of wolves or, worse, orcs. In his dreams, fever bright, he was confused and lost, trapped in a world of white and frozen everything. Of snarls low and deep that made him sink slightly and the fear that gripped him far better than any cold. He reached out, his hand shaking, as he took up the bread and began to eat.

Bofur continued to support him, while Bifur made sure food got on his plate while growling at Bofur and Bombur made sure that his family ate, along with himself.

He was halfway through his meal before he closed his eyes and fought against Bofur's gentle prodding to eat more, exhausted beyond anything. It drags on his bones, and then he fights slightly as he feels himself being lifted up, until there is Ori's voice cutting through the fog, gentle and promising that he's okay.

And he drops off into an exhausted sleep once more, knowing the Ori cannot lie any more than he can make the sun rise in the west.

*~*~*~*

Oin doesn’t put off cleaning Bilbo’s injuries any longer than he must.

He waits until Bilbo has eaten and is exhausted beyond all measure, and then has Dori carry him over to one of the beds they have been provided with, raising Bilbo’s feet above his chest once he’s settled.

Bofur does not follow, though that might be because Bifur is snarling at him to eat.

Oin _will_ wake Bilbo up once more, when he must, but in the meantime, he works on cleaning out injuries and cursing goblins and orcs and wargs, and fool Hobbits who don’t have the sense to realize that they are injured.

The last is probably not the wisest to say with Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur in hearing, but they seem to either take his words as they are intended (in jest) or they did not hear him.

In the meantime, Ori is at Bilbo’s head and, in fact, has the Hobbit’s head cradled on his lap, the backs of his fingers, free of the gloves, run soothingly over Bilbo’s cheek, before he rests his hand there after a moment, while Dori seems to be thinking before he heads off.

Oin glances over and sees the way Bofur watches, but he isn’t watching Ori.

He’s watching Bilbo, and Oin glances over to Ori when he feels a tap.

 _“He’s burning up,”_ Ori signs, flawless and sure.

Oin is a bit surprised, but he realizes he shouldn’t be.

Dori, he knew, used to help Balin at his stall, his scribe…

Now that he thinks about it, Oin now knows who Balin’s apprentice was, though he should have known before.

The journal Ori carries must have come from Balin when the young scribe reached his journeyman status.

Oin has a distinct feeling that, at the end of the Quest for Erebor, when it is all settled and the Guilds reinstated, Ori will be a Master.

“Willow bark. Go see if…” Oin ordered but stilled when a dog trotted up slowly, a tray grasped tightly in his jaws. Oin took it, carefully, and the dog placed the tray on the ground before he trotted off.

“Ori, get him up, if you can,” Oin ordered, not even twitching as Dori came over with a steaming mug of tea.

“Willow bark?” Oin questioned, earning a nod, even as Ori was carefully eased Bilbo up, Bilbo waking up with a low whine-like sound that seemed to come through his nose.

“Bilbo, tea,” Ori stated and, carefully, helped Bilbo to hold the mug, not even hesitating in being helpful until that cup was done and a weaker mug being made.

By the time Oin had finished taking care of Bilbo’s arm, however, Bofur had taken over as being Bilbo’s support, running a comforting hand over Bilbo’s braids, through his hair. He gave his thanks as Dori brought over the weak mug of willow bark tea, and smiled at Bilbo gently.

“Bilbo, more tea?” Bofur questioned and Bilbo tried to twist away. Bofur gently tilted Bilbo so the Hobbit couldn’t twist too far away.

“Now, now, I’ve had Bifur trying to rip out my hair and fight against willow bark. I’d rather _not_ have to use those skills against you,” Bofur soothed gently, almost teasingly, but Bilbo shook his head again.

“You won’t get sick. This isn’t at the same strength,” Bofur urged and that seemed to cause Bilbo to relax.

“Ah,” Bofur stated, before he helped Bilbo drink the weak tea, though not all of it, running a hand over Bilbo’s forehead.

He hesitated before he let Bilbo lie down, leaning over Bilbo protectively briefly and gently tapping his forehead to Bilbo’s. He then ran a hand over Bilbo’s hair and sung lowly, carefully urging Bilbo into sleep while Oin began to inspect Bilbo’s leg. “No infection here. I’ll want to get another splint before I cauterize this. And, unfortunately, I’ll want him awake. He’ll be able to control his natural instinct a bit more then,” Oin stated and Bofur looked up.

Bofur, as well as Bifur, nodded once before Bofur began to tuck Bilbo in. Once reassured that Bilbo was settled, Bofur lay down in the bed next to Bilbo and was out like a light.

No one commented on it.

Well, no one except Ori, Fili, and Kili, who were bugging Nori about it being “time to pay up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right so my sounding board/friend/person I write most of my Hobbit fics for essentially since I usually fill the prompts ingenious-spark's gives, suggested that I poll this.
> 
> I have been, as a side project and plotting thing, writing Malin's life (well, more like...before Malin's life, depending on one's view on 'life', to right before the Quest of Erebor, maybe...I haven't gotten that far). And I was wondering...would anyone be interested in reading it?


	8. Fire Break (Non-Graphic Description of Cauterizing a Wound and Medical Gore in General)

Bilbo came to in the night when he heard a fearsome sound, but there was a soft voice in his ear, Bofur, and a hand over his braids, soothing him back into sleep. When he woke the next morning, it was to Bofur smiling down at him. "I have been told by Oin that I need to make you drink more tea," Bofur stated and Bilbo frowned a bit, remembering when it had to be forced down his throat during the Fell Winter, though most of it came up, and he shuddered all over.

Bofur frowned a bit and then Bilbo was clinging tightly to Bofur as he was suddenly being lifted into the air, eyes wide. He whimpered through his nose and buried his head into Bofur's shoulder as Bofur apologized lowly. "Let’s get you taken care of,” he stated.

Bilbo wasn’t sure if he wanted to cling tighter to Bofur while going red, or try and climb over Bofur’s shoulder while going red.

Hesitantly, scared that he would get dropped or laughed at, he tightened his grip around Bofur’s shoulders, burying his head, hesitantly, into Bofur’s neck, trembling slightly from more than the fever, more than just ache that was through everything.

But Bofur shifted his grip so he could hold Bilbo against him and Bilbo refused to think that Bofur might actually like _him_.

Because who ever could?

*~*~*~*

Bilbo’s eyes were clenched together tightly, breathing heavily through his nose as Bofur held him, his teeth clenched on the stick as he felt as if some sort of branding flame was running up his leg. He could feel Dwalin helping to keep him still, and he threw his head back, or would have if he wasn’t braced against Bofur’s torso, his head shoved against Bofur’s shoulder.

He trembled and tears built up behind scrunched eyelids. He felt gentle hands helping to hold down his left arm as Bilbo did a full-body jerk of pain as more flames seemed to curl up his leg, and he was practically gasping through his nose.

“I’ll get some burn ointment on it and then we’ll bandage it. Kili, keep that ankle steady. Gloin, help,” Oin ordered and coolness began to set in where the fire was and there was a gentle tugging before the wood was carefully removed, a low whine rising up as they continued.

“Easy, Atkâtsanaz,” Bofur murmured softly and Bilbo’s eyes blinked open weakly to find Ori staring at Bofur in surprise and Bofur chuckled.

“That’s _you_ Bilbo,” Bofur explained and Bilbo turned his head into Bofur’s neck.

“Touch that coin purse and _die_ Nori,” Bofur rumbled out and Bilbo wondered if Nori was close enough to kick.

Probably not, as Dwalin had just let him up. “Now, we need to get the poultices. Kili, Gloin, with me. Dwalin, grab Thorin and haul him over here, even if you have to knock him out to do so. His head can take a hit,” Oin grumbled and Dwalin let out a low chuckle, though Bilbo looked over when he got an off-hand, almost _fond_ , pat to the uninjured leg before Dwalin walked off to get Thorin.

“Ori, Bofur, _don’t_ move him,” Oin ordered and Kili helped Oin to stand before joining him, Oin giving instructions on _how_ one would go about creating poultices for infections.

“Oin is going to kidnap Kili into the Healers’ Wing,” Ori stated.

“Don’t blame him. Kili’s hands are steady, even when he wants to get sick,” Bofur answered and then nudged Ori.

“Balin took you in as apprentice, didn’t he?” Bofur returned and Ori flushed a bit, tugging at his cardigan nervously.

“Journeyman now,” Ori mumbled softly and Bilbo tapped Ori, causing Ori to flush, but also lower his eyes slightly.

Bilbo, however, knew that look that was in his eyes before he looked away. Bilbo reached out and gently brought Ori’s face up to meet his. Bilbo gave a comforting smile, before dropping his hand and flicking out, _“You may keep silent, if you wish.”_

However, Ori just shook his head and glanced around a bit before he settled close.

“When I was little, my older brother Dori used to help Balin manage a stall in the marketplace. His mother…Balin’s mother that is, was pregnant, for the last time, so Dori spent a lot of time watching the stall during the later months, selling pre-copied things and taking new commissions. Dori used to bring me all the time, and, later, Balin brought Malin. When I got big enough to sort-of be left on my own, I was watched by Balin in the back, mostly. And I got to watch Malin, too, though that was more like sitting next to her, wobbling. Kili and Fili joined later, when Dis went back to the forge. Gimli joined after he was old enough to be watched by Dori, because once everyone kind-of grouped together, Balin couldn’t watch us all, but for the most part, if it wasn’t a Lesson Day, Balin watched Malin and I in the back while he worked.

“In fact, all five of us we were taught by Balin, and Dwalin, actually, but…Dori would have had a fit if he knew about the second, though I rarely got to go. Malin and I shared the same ‘fighting’ class, later, which Dori would also have a fit over if he knew,” Ori explained, his voice soft and quiet, eyes darting around, though Dwalin was with Thorin, quietly arguing and Balin was relaxing with his pipe, away from them.

“Easier, was what Balin said. Dori said it was Balin thanking Dori for watching over Malin, usually on short notice. Sometimes, Dori would watch over the both of us, Malin and I, for weeks. Malin would get scared then, whenever Balin and Dwalin had to leave for so long,” Ori whispered and Bilbo watched him carefully as Ori seemed lost in thought.

There was a grief there, something he was unsure if he could tell or not before he took a deep breath and looked back over at where Dwalin was pulling Thorin into a ‘friendly’ hug that was probably supporting half his weight, then back to Balin, who was watching the three of them.

“Well, one day, I asked Balin if I could add some ‘framing’ to one of the cheaper scrolls. It wouldn’t devalue it, and I copied what Balin was doing. I was a bit young, to be an apprentice, but Balin took me on anyway. And I became a scribe Journeyman about a month or so before this Quest. With that Journeyman status came the right to leave the Blue Mountains,” Ori explained, with a shrug.

“And you came on this Quest,” Bofur stated.

“Yes. I followed Nori. Dori followed me. I think Dori’s mad at Balin, for making sure I got my Journeyman status _before_ the Quest and not during,” Ori stated and Balin chuckled, Bilbo looking over at him.

He had not even realized that the older Dwarf had moved. “Oh, a bit laddie. But I kept you as my apprentice a bit too long, and he knew that. The Guild was starting to question everything,” Balin stated with a smile and Bilbo noticed that Balin held a slight sadness to him.

“Well, at the end of this Quest, I shall have to wait for the Guild to be reinstated in Erebor to try and earn my Mastery with the written account of the Quest,” Ori stated.

“Sure you want to do that laddie? You become a Master, you’ll have to take on apprentices…eventually,” Balin stated.

Bilbo wondered who Balin’s other apprentice had been, but when Bofur opened his mouth, Bilbo didn’t think twice about covering it with his hand, despite how it exhausted him.

The action, however, caused Balin to chuckle and Ori to laugh politely into his hand.

“Why have you covered Bofur’s mouth Bilbo?” Thorin asked as Dwalin sat down next to them, _astonishingly_ (Bilbo wondered if sarcasm could be felt) shortly before Thorin himself sat down.

And then Oin was there, the stick was replaced and Dwalin was helping to make sure Bilbo didn’t accidentally kick anyone as Oin began to clean out his wounds with something that _stung_ and _burned_ , Bofur holding him carefully, though tightly.

The tears gathered once more and all he could think about was the _agony_ he was in once more, but also…Blibo also thought about the grief in Ori’s eyes and wondered what had put it there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this chapter made any sense.
> 
> *sighs*
> 
> I will just leave it here. It wrote itself and I have no heart to change any of it.


	9. Lessons

Bilbo smiles as Ori settles next to him.  _"Good morning, Ori,"_  he signed out, using the symbols he had drilled Ori over.

_"Morning Bilbo. Can i ask a review of you?"_

Bilbo resisted the urge to snort.  _Drilled_  might have been a bit  _kind_.

Ori still has trouble grasping the correct words to use, but he gets his meaning across and he understands better than he can sign.  _"What do you need an answer to?"_

Here, Ori hesitates. He chews on his lip nervously and then his hands twitch. The young scribe is lost on how to start and Bilbo waits patiently.  _"Why do you mention things?"_

The question is like a punch to the gut and Bilbo begins to play with his waistcoat. He lets out a low sigh and began to explain.  _"In the Shire, family is everything. This includes...everything. How people treat you, where you live, who you should marry. Family is everything and when someone decides to buck the conventions, it does not have good consequences. My father was a Baggins, it is where I got the name 'Baggins' from. They are known for residing at the top of the Hill, and for being entirely respectable and_ ** _never_** _late. My mother...my mother was a Took and that means everything in opposite. Tooks are known for their adventures, and being wild. Tooks do not marry Bagginses. And that was what my mother did. At Hobbiton, and in the Tookburough...this wasn't really accepted. If my mother had been tamer perhaps, or not so Tookish...it doesn't matter. It was...hard, near impossible, for me to get friends I was not blood related to. The fact is...I have not had anyone in my home not myself since my mother died, just shy of twenty years ago..."_

Bilbo's arms get crushed to his chest as Ori is suddenly hugging him tightly and curled around him. He is pressing painfully on Bilbo's injuries across his torso, but Bilbo is just curling his head over Ori's shoulder in response and Ori is clinging. He is muttering something in Khuzdul, but Bilbo doesn't understand him, can't understand him, and Ori is almost... _scrabbling_  at Bilbo, as if he could just reach in and rip out every painful memory. Bilbo lets out a low whine of pain and someone is _trying_ to pry Ori off. "Ori, Ori, what are you going on about? What do you mean...Ori, why are you demanding  _names_?" Bofur demanded, and that tells Bilbo who is trying to get Ori to let him go, but Ori was bound and determined not to let Bilbo go.

"Ori, you're  _hurting_  Bilbo!" Bofur tried and instantly Ori had released him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ori cried, carefully touching Bilbo's face and then he's burying his head into Bilbo's shoulder, carefully. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. No one's supposed to hurt you anymore," Ori whimpered and Bilbo sighed softly before he reached up, carding his hand through Ori's hair, gently.

"Bilbo...Bilbo, what does he mean?" Bofur asked, but Bilbo just shook his head.

It seems, through shaking hands and silent words, Ori learned more about Bilbo then any other in the Company.

He always was the most observant one, wasn’t he?

*~*~*~*

Later, after more willow bark tea and bandage changings and Bofur being Bilbo's crutch as he helped Bilbo manuver around Beorn's home, Bilbo is returned to his bedding, this time leaning on Bifur. He's signing with Bifur, letting his hands fly, when Ori is suddenly there, dragging Fili and Kili with him and shoving them onto the ground before Bilbo and Bifur.

The entire time the two princes are protesting, but they don't fight. "Today, Mister Bilbo is going to be teaching us his home gestures. So if he's in a fever state, and doesn't know who we are, we can still talk to him. Good? Good. I'll translate," Ori stated, leaving a stunned Bilbo, right before he signed.

_"I never agreed to lead this unit."_

Ori smiled and pat Bilbo's shoulder. "But you will anyway," Ori answered, leaving three very confused Dwarves around them.

Bilbo reached over and pat Ori's hair. And Ori responded by gently smacking his head to Bilbo's, much like how Dwalin and Balin had.

But  _nothing_  like how Bofur tapped his head to Bilbo's.

He decided not to think about.

*~*~*~*

Bifur grumbled softly as he tucked a blanket over Bofur and Bilbo. Bofur had Bilbo pulled protectively to his chest, arms loose, yet completely ensnaring the Hobbit. Bilbo was using Bofur’s arm as a pillow, and Bifur gently brushed some of Bilbo’s loose hair back. He grumbled again and slowly stood up. When he turned to head to his bed, he was surprised to find Ori watching him.

“Your Adoptee won’t accept the truth,” Ori stated in Khuzdul.

Bifur twitched his head to the side and Ori tapped his quill lightly against his knee. “Your Adoptee…he won’t see how Bofur feels, he won’t see…he won’t see it. His heart has been too damaged,” Ori explained.

Bifur settled across from Ori. He pat Ori’s knee. “You’ll find someone, Scribe,” Bifur grumbled and Ori smiled, before he looked at Bilbo, as if he was looking back at Bifur.

He did not look at Bilbo like Bofur did, nor like how Thorin once did, nor how any other Dwarf looked at him, omitting one.

Ori looked at Bilbo like Bombur did.

“I…I think I already have,” Ori answered softly and then focused on his book, quill scratching lightly on the paper.

Bifur smiled at that and then pulled out a block of wood he had…acquired from Beorn’s stores, carefully starting on a carving.

And so they passed the time till the fire dimmed to embers, content to keep to their hobbies until it was too dark to see.


	10. Living Crutch (A Filler Chapter)

Within the first, full, day of moving, partially, under his own power, Bilbo learned quickly how good each Dwarf was to being his living crutch.

Oin was, unsurprisingly, the best, being his first living crutch of the day while Bofur hovered like a mother goose over her goslings.

He was also the one who could do it the least.

Bofur was just as likely to just start carrying him if he even  _thought_ Bilbo might stumble...which irritated Bilbo while also making him feel both warm and... _safe_ , something that sent every alarm bell raising a ruckus in Bilbo's mind.

Mostly because this feeling was usually followed by great disappointment.

Dwalin just carefully picked him up and moved him, while Balin was good for short distances.

Bifur and Bombur would be just below Oin in the ladder of 'actually able to be a living crutch', if they weren't at  _just_ the  _wrong_ height for Bilbo to easily support himself against them without adjusting the 'proper way to use a Dwarf as a living crutch' grip Bilbo used.

Thorin was injured and not allowed to be Bilbo’s living crutch, while Bilbo did not trust his health to Fili and Kili.

Dori was just under Oin in the ‘living crutch’ department, along with Ori.

Bilbo spent most of his time with Nori being his living crutch snatching back his things from Nori. Nori just grinned back unapologetically and, once Bilbo was safely deposited on the ground, always got smacked upside the head by his brother.

Gloin just had too…uncomfortable to be used as a living crutch.

He gleefully distracted Bilbo with stories of his son, Gimli, when Oin, with Kili, checked over all of Bilbo’s injuries.

It was a welcome distraction, and Oin was gleeful over the fact that, despite the burn on Bilbo’s leg, everything was fine and Beorn supplied a good stock of wood that could be carved into a _real_ crutch for Bilbo at that declaration.

The infection in Bilbo’s arm never went any farther than inflamed skin, caught early enough to prevent it from getting worse. His broken and burned leg was carefully watched, but the cauterizing was well watched and already well on its way to healing, the Dwarves knowing what they were doing on the subject of burns.

The ointment for the burns was the only reason his leg wasn’t completely covered, but they redid the ‘splint’ on their third day so the break was better protected and Gandalf used his limited healing magic to insure that Bilbo’s break was healing properly.

He used the same magic to check on Thorin’s _cracked_ ribs, and remarked that, if Thorin actually listened to Oin, instead of letting his pride get the best of him, he would be farther along in the healing process.

But, no matter how relaxing and _safe_ Beorn’s was, Durin’s Day was rushing towards them.

Bilbo had finally adjusted to walking around with his crutch, Bofur still hovering like a worried mother goose. Bilbo had let him, thankful that Bofur was there when, inevitably, Bilbo stumbled and, when his arm hurt from getting around on the crutch Bofur had made for him, Bofur would pick him up, allowing Bilbo to curl against him.

To bury his face into the collar of Bofur’s shirt and just _breathe_ , while carefully holding the crutch so it didn’t smack either him or Bofur.

Neither were aware of the betting flying fast and furious behind their backs that only intensified when Bofur glared violently at the new clothes Beorn produced for Bilbo, somewhere, that somehow fit the Hobbit.

(Bilbo had a nasty suspicion that, once upon a time, Beorn was not the lonely bear-man in the middle of the woods he is now and tried to convey how thankful he was for Beorn giving up such memories to him, a simple Hobbit from the Shire.)

(He thinks Beorn understood, if the smile was any indication.)

*~*~*~*

They left Beorn’s once Thorin was declared fit for travel (and Bilbo declared ‘won’t drop dead when we travel through Mirkwood’, which Bofur didn’t laugh at), it was on the back of borrowed ponies and with firm warnings to keep to the path through Mirkwood that Beorn had told them about.

Bilbo was just thankful they were _moving_.

The longer he had a chance to heal _before_ Durin’s Day in relative non-movement, the better it would be for him.

And after…after his contract fulfilled…

Bilbo decided he’d rather not think on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Right now all I really want to write is a bunch of Mommy Dori.
> 
> But I couldn't resist this little bit of fluff right before Mirkwood.
> 
> Because...everything's about to get worse.
> 
> (Yay)


	11. The Road to Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update.
> 
> Forgive me?

Riding on pony while with a broken leg was as pleasent as it sounds. His pony, whose name Beorn said was Bluebell, was cautious with her steps and kept to the back mostly through trying to keep her pace as unjostling as possible.

Mounting and dismounting were next to impossible for Bilbo to do, leaving the taller and stronger members of the Company to lift him off as if he were some fragile lady instead of a Hobbit, though Bluebell was quite understanding dropping her head low whenever he had to get on or off. When the call to stop was given, Bluebell would still and lower her head so Bilbo could lean back on the saddle and swing his left leg over her neck and sit sideways on her saddle to let either Dwalin or Dori help him off and help support him until Bofur or Bifur brought Bilbo his crutch so he could give Bluebell's back a rest as they walked towards to Mirkwood, and Bilbo, quietly, cursed his injuries.

(But he didn't sign about it, even when it  _hurt_ and he probably should. Nearly two decades of having no one around to speak to on a regular basis that could understand his signs made it hard for him to change his ways.)

During their walks, Bluebell kept close to his side, to which he pet her and showed her affection as best he could, remembering how the herds of mares that a few of his Took relations bred showed their care for each other, balancing on one foot, to groom her as best he could, raking his fingers through her coat and scratching the places she could not reach and Bluebell practically melted against him.

She wasn't the only one to walk next to him. Bifur kept close, whenever he didn't get tired of the slow pace and go on up ahead, and Bofur was there when Bifur was not.

When on Bluebell's back, she kept to the side of the road on the right, far enough from the edge so his injury would not be accidentally jostled beyond her own movements and the others dropped back to ride next to him so they could talk, Bilbo more often than not becoming a someone to listen, especially when Fili and Kili truly got into their excited vocal trippings that had Bilbo smiling fondly at the pair, though lessons of his own gestures always happened with Ori, who had taken to asking about his mother, or his father, or favorite cousins (or Hamfast Gamgee, his gardener now, just taking over for his father, and the only one that made Bilbo ache for the Shire, if only because he knew no one with claim on Bag-End, the Sackville-Baggins especially, would treat Hamfast politely, or well), people that were as distant as the last time he had carried on a conversation in just hand signals, or even a conversation before coming on this Quest.

Bofur had joined in on the lessons, and Bilbo had nearly laughed at it.

All in all, it was quite disheartening to find that, already, they were at Mirkwood and, once more, he was aided down, his crutch given to him. Bluebell nuzzled Bilbo's hair and, once the pack (the lightest of them all) was settled over Bilbo's shoulders, trotted away. "Really wish we could take 'em with us," Bofur stated, eyes watching as each pony, still tacked up, made their way back.

"Beorn would have known if you had not let them go. He has been following us the entire time. And he shall insure that the ponies are safe, don't you fret Mister Baggins. But...this is where I leave you, for now. Worry not, I shall return before you know it. Remember, keep to the path, for that is the only safe route, and watch out for Bilbo. He, unlike you, cannot cry for help in the darkness that has claimed this wood," Gandalf warned and Bilbo glowered at the Grey Wizard, who rode off on his own borrowed horse, despite the protests that he stay from Dori and Fili and Kili, though Thorin looked happy for Gandalf to be gone and Balin looked resigned.

Bifur leaned against his spear and eyed Bilbo a bit while Bombur pat his stomach in that manner he did when something worried him.

Bilbo huffed and signed,  _"Watching is not required. That is what whistling is for."_

He very nearly growled when Bofur merely gave him a smile, wrapping a gentle arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, and leaned his head down to nudge his forehead against Bilbo's gently.

In fact, it was in a manner that Bilbo would have equated to a teasing kiss to the nose, something his father had done to his mother to calm her down from whatever rage she was about to fly into.

So long as that rage didn’t focus on a situation surrounding Bilbo, at least. _Then_ , his calm, steady-natured father let his mother go, while he comforted Bilbo, because inevitably, before Bilbo grew his rather thick emotional skin (that Thorin had cut through violently and without remorse with his words on the Quest before the Hug), Bilbo would end up in tears.

“Don’t you fret, Bilbo. We’ll not need to worry, if we stay to the path, we should all be fine,” Bofur stated, tapping Bilbo’s nose with his finger.

Bilbo jerked his face back, scrunching his nose up slightly and he stuck his tongue out childishly at Bofur before he quickly jerked it back into his mouth, Bofur’s mischievous smile putting him on edge. “Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Bilbo,” Thorin called, Balin already stepping onto the path into Mirkwood.

Bilbo let out a sigh and began to hobble forward, making sure to keep his broken foot off the ground while he hopped along, all the while hoping that he wouldn’t run into any mud.

 _That_ would make things a bit more difficult, to say the least.


	12. What Darkness Means (A Filler)

Bofur hummed lowly as he settled in for the night next to Bilbo, knowing it was Bilbo because they had stopped when they stopped being able to really see the path and there was, also, only a double whistle when he gently prodded Bilbo's shoulder to insure that it was his Hobbit he was going to cuddle against. He found Bilbo's head in the darkness next to his own, curls tickling his nose a bit and he couldn't resist, despite the guilt he felt about stealing dwarvish kisses, brushing his forehead against the top of Bilbo's forehead once more, earning a soft exhale at that.

Bofur than settled his arm around Bilbo's waist, only to be startled by Bilbo latching until his hand and pulling it to his chest, curling around it instantly as he began to carefully play with Bofur's hand, tracing things across the palm which tickled a bit, and left Bofur rather confused. "Bilbo, what are you doing?" he asked softly and then he heard the soft sound, like a hitching of breath and he frowned before he leaned over Bilbo, carefully curling over the Hobbit.

He gently gave Bilbo another dwarvish kiss (for mouth to mouth kissing was for very private moments, as it would be embarrassing if beards tangled, and thus was considered a social faux-pas to kiss mouth-to-mouth in public...not that Bofur minded as it allowed him to steal them, greedy for them, worse than any thief, for Bilbo did not even know anything was being stolen) before carefully nuzzling his way down until his nose touched wet.

And it hit Bofur like a mine collapse.

Bilbo could not "speak" with them in the night, or at all. He hobbled along, clinging tight to his crutch as he moved and when they rested at night, it was too dark to see, and so he mostly sat in silence, listening, forced into a position of the perfect listener, who would give a sympathetic ear and a gentle smile and absorb all you said until you had spilled every word you possessed and got a warm hug in return.

Bofur wondered, _now_ , how often Bilbo had wanted to share something, to tell a joke, only for there to be no one to see it, or no one to understand it, before now, before this Quest, before Bifur just grabbing him and hauling them into their family with only the words for, 'needed' and 'lonely', tripping off Bifur's tongue, their cousin and head of the family pretending he could speak no more than that so he would not have to explain himself to even his kin.

"Oh, Bilbo, don't you worry. Soon we'll be out of here and we can all chat together again," Bofur promised, though he knew he could promise no such thing.

Bilbo shook harder in his protective embrace as more tears flowed and Bofur buried his face into Bilbo's curly hair. Bilbo was quiet, his sobs barely audible, and Bofur clung to him, mentally kicking himself.

They had been in the forest for five days.

Bilbo had been without conversation for five days.

The next night, Bofur rests his hands on either side of Bilbo's face and asks, "Do you want to get ready to rest yet?"

The smile is blinding, even in the darkness.


	13. The Darkness Closes In (or, Mirkwood Forces Unwanted Introspection)

Things got worse after that night Bofur promised that they would be out soon.

It began with Bombur falling into the river and Bilbo remembers how Bifur and Bofur looked, so horrified, and Bilbo took extra packs, extra weight, and hobbled along as fast as he could while they carried Bombur, because he would not wake.

And when he did wake, he said he had been dreaming of a warm cozy kitchen and lots of good food and he burst into tears when he realized that  _it_ was the dream, not this.

Bilbo is sure it is not the lack of food and empty belly that has Bombur bursting into tears, for Bifur spoke often of how Bombur's children would love Bilbo, but he does not try and correct anyone who comments about Bombur missing food.

(Bilbo often spent his mornings, after his mother's death, in tears once he realized what he had left was the dream, not the horrible emptiness that he woke up to.)

Bombur immediately fusses over Bilbo and takes most of the weight, and Bilbo has not the heart to tell Bombur that they are running out of food because they lost a couple of packs of supplies to the river.

Not that he really could and, that evening, when passing out rations, Bilbo's stomach is too clenched to eat much more and hobbles over to Bombur, whom he can barely make out in the dark, and carefully presses the rations into Bombur's hands. "I didn't miss the food," Bombur mumbled and Bilbo carefully rested his head against Bombur's shoulder and nodded.

"Truly?"

Another nod.

Because he does.

(Because there are still days that he wakes up to a cold room and a silent smial, and just starts sobbing because he realizes he's still living his worst nightmare.)

Mirkwood, Bilbo decides, is the perfect atmosphere to force unwanted introspection and he can't even being to fathom what the others are thinking but as they march farther down the path, the voices fall silent and Bilbo's pack eventually stops being the lightest as they, slowly but surely, run out of everything but blankets.

He hobbles along as fast as he can to the point where Oin tells him that if he tries to push himself farther, they'll have to pause to reopen his leg to reset the bones, and they (Bifur, Bofur, Bombur) stop letting Bilbo keep to his own at all, which Bilbo doesn't mind, because he can hold one of their hands, usually Bofur's, and trace letters into their palm, even though they don't know what he's doing.

He draws comfort from the familiar gesture that he used to do when his parents were alive and Bilbo definitely hates Mirkwood.

It gets worse after they are starving and dehydrated and Bombur says there is food...

Off the path.

Bilbo finds himself abandoned on the path, left behind because he doesn't trust suddenly appearing food, but he follows, eventually, because he does not want to die alone on the path.

(He doesn't want to die at all, but most especially not alone.)

He's definitely blaming Mirkwood for his dark thoughts.

He follows after them and he finds they are in a clearing, near murderous.

"It was Elven magic!" Gloin growled and Bilbo almost wants to cry out before he carefully settles onto the ground, noticing the clearing is brightly light. Oin grunts a bit and immediatly settles down next to Bilbo. When he reaches out to touch Bilbo's leg, however, Bilbo pointedly pulls it away.

Oin glares and Bilbo does not look at him. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he grumbled.

Bilbo, however, does not hear the question. Instead, he stumbles onto his feet, ignoring the called protests, but he is tugging on Ori's cardigan and signing rapidly, over and over, _”Where is the leader of our unit?"_

Ori frowns a bit and he shakes his head before his eyes widen.

"Where's Thorin?" Ori called, just as Dwalin did.

And Bilbo is standing on one foot, holding onto Ori like he's Bilbo's lifeline.

It is only when someone (Bofur, Bilbo knows his Dwarf's arms, and when did he become  _Bilbo’s_ , because he's not, and never will be, not in that way) lifts him into the air and sits him back on the ground and someone (Oin, because only Oin pokes his injuries) touches his ankle, getting a silent scream of pain and trying to drag the foot away. "It is swollen," Oin warns and they agree to break while they work on getting the swelling down and Bofur is running a comforting hand over Bilbo's hair and Bilbo worries about his braids for one moment.

"We'll wake ya in an hour Bilbo," Bofur promises.

And Bilbo closes his eyes, trusting in that promise.

When he opens them, something screaming at him that  _everything_ is wrong, it is darker and he knows that something, somehow, has drawn the Company (his family) away.

(And Bilbo won't let the darkness take his family from him twice.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am easily bribed by chocolate ice cream.


	14. Attercops

Bilbo forced himself onto his feet, agony lacing up his right leg as he tried to put weight on his foot.

If he could have, he possibly would have screamed in pain actually. He leaned heavily on his crutch, panting softly with sweat slipping into his eyes and he shivered and shuddered a bit before he carefully made sure that his ring was safe in his pocket. Once reassured, though Bilbo wasn't sure  _why_  it was so reassuring (probably because being able to turn invisible was useful) did he take out his sword and grip it tight before he began to head out of the clearing, hoping to come across the Company, keeping close to the trees, occasionally cutting into the bark with his sword (letter-opener) and "x" so he knows the way back to the clearing that was filled with Elven magic that kept a bit of the physical darkness at bay.

*~*~*~*~*

It was pure chance that had Bilbo finding the Company.

He had stumbled on an unseen (what wasn't?) root, dropping his crutch as his hand flew out, and crashed into some thick spider webbing that coated an entire tree.

He had soundlessly screamed, wrenched backward and fallen, staring up in horror at the great network of webbing that was, literally, just above his head. Somehow, the webs caught whatever light was about, or maybe it was the fact they were so silvery-grey, but he could see them quite clearly.

In fact, they stood out so well, that, flat on his back as he was, he could count twelve cocoons above his head.

Bilbo scrambled as quickly as he was able to, barely being able to stay on his feet, and looked around, gripping his sword tight in his hands, as he searched for a way to climb up. He soon found one and climbed, slowly and painfully, up, gritting his teeth as he went, until he came to the first cocoon...which was wiggling. He didn't hesitate and began to cut through the thick spider web carefully, opening it up to find Kili, who shook and coughed weakly. "Spiders, big spiders," Kili panted out softly and Bilbo's eyes widened before he began to work on the next cocoon, shivering slightly.

Fili came next, and Fili nearly dislodged Bilbo from the tree to throw himself at Kili, shaking hands petting his brother's hair.

Bilbo just began to cut at the next, finding Balin within.

Fili and Kili pulled Balin out while Bilbo moved on to cut the next cocoon open.

After finding Dwalin, Bilbo had just enough time to free Oin before he heard the sounds of spiders returning.

Bilbo, somehow, dodged Oin's reaching hand and bared his teeth slightly. Now on the ground, he slipped into the shadows and slipped his ring on. Once hidden, he was surprised that the world became that brownish tone once more, like everything was washed with dirt, and made it so he could see.

Which was helpful and slightly disturbing.

Within the ring's influence, he saw some rocks and hefted one up. He didn't hesitate to begin moving until he could find the spiders.

Licking his lips, he began to whistle the attercop song, the one his mother said all spiders hated.

The spiders stopped as one and one hissed lowly, turning to the whistling. He didn't pause, still backing up slowly and, as the spiders began to follow, he took his rock and threw it true into the eyes of the one closest to him.

It screeched in pain and tried to pull back, colliding with another.

Bilbo was starting to think that it was speaking in some language he didn't understand, but one he had heard before.

Azog had spoken in that language, dark and twisted and made Bilbo's heart nearly stop.

But still he whistled as he rushed back, ignoring the fiery agony, because the Company (his friends, his family) needed him and he was not going to let them fall, not while he still breathed.

Bilbo tightened his grip on his sword and, when he was at a tree and the spiders came close, he swung at the closest and his sword cut through one of the legs, before he is up in the tree while it screams.

"Stings! Stings!" the spider screamed in a voice that should not come from anything that was not dying, and if Bilbo ever heard a creature dying, and making such noises, he would kill it out of mercy.

But Bilbo has found some rotten  _something_  in the tree and he picks it up before throwing it with all his might wiping his hand off on his trousers (these things are ruined now), and the spiders scramble off.

Bilbo nearly tumbles out of his tree in his haste and he is heading back to where they wait, slipping off the Ring from one shadow to another and he stumbles in. When he hobbles into the clearing, it is Bofur who pulls him into a protective embrace, though he is shaking badly. Bilbo wants to cling, to let Bofur hold him, but he's shoving Bofur's arms off him, and turning him around and  _shoving_  Bofur the direction they came from, and there is more rustling as the spiders start returning and Bilbo sees they are having trouble getting Bombur free (they have found their weapons in Bilbo's absence) and Bilbo shoves again before he turns around and slips on the ring, Bofur's cry of dismay telling him that Bofur had turned around in time to see him disappear, but Bilbo doesn't care.

Once more he is whistling as he takes off, making sure to leave a trail he can follow back (though hopefully not one the spiders can follow) and he has more rocks, or twisted  _things_  in his free hand and he's throwing, scattering them, and the one with a missing leg, Bilbo drops onto. He stabs frantically, the things screaming and thrashing and nearly sending Bilbo flying.

"Stings, stings! Stings!" the creature screams until Bilbo has finally managed to kill it.

He has spider blood on him now and he's trembling as he stumbles away, making sure to scrub as much as he could off before getting back to the Company.

Four more times, he had to backtrack and fight spiders, or trick them into moving away.

He is exhausted and in agony, and he's lost his way twice.

When he stumbles back into the clearing, barely remembering to take his ring off, he nearly gets an ax to the face from Dwalin. He reels back, but Dwalin keeps him from collapsing, and it is too dark to see Dwalin's face, but Bofur's panicked, "Bilbo?" his enough to tell him that Bofur is concerned and everyone is still shaking and Bilbo begins shoving at Bofur, then Dwalin, before he begins to, somehow, continue hobbling forward.

Someone returns his crutch to him, which he takes gratefully and begins to follow his "x" marks with his fingers, listening for spiders.

But, they do not follow and Bilbo leads them back to the Elven clearing.

And promptly collapses the minute they are in the faintly light area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to see _Hansel and Gretel_ today.
> 
> I saw maybe...1% of the movie. I don't do well with gore.
> 
> Also, the idea of the spiders speaking in the Black Speech came from the fact that in the book, they could talk. I decided to keep it and, remembering Shelob, their mother, lived at Mordor's backdoor, decided that they would know it and speak in it instead of Common.
> 
> Mostly so I could have the freak-out factor in my head.
> 
> Also...there is adrenalin filled, haze, fight scene.
> 
> Best I can do. Bilbo is going to be paying for his heroics soon enough.


	15. The Darkness Grows (A Filler, kind-of)

Bilbo thrashed slightly as he came to, a blinding pain encompassing his leg, and he was being held tightly, too tightly, and it was cold, so cold, and someone was singing in a voice that was like rocks being ground together (not really though, because there was a gentleness to it, so maybe more like smooth stones being ground into powder) and that is new enough to having Bilbo blinking through the darkness.

"It's not slipped out of place, I can tell that much. The swelling is bad, but expected. Luckily, we have metal, but someone's going to have to keep him still."

And that's  _Oin_ and Bilbo lets out a low exhale of relief.

Well, until he remembers he's in Mirkwood and...

He mentally flinches away from those thoughts, though Bilbo isn't sure why, but he'll think on it  _later_ , when they might not all possibly die and Thorin has been found, because there were only twelve cocoons, not thirteen, which means that Thorin has to be somewhere, and there is a beard in his face.

Why is there a beard in his face?

Bilbo huffed and tried to shove the beard out of his face, only to hear more of that grinding language and he smiles.

 _Bifur_.

Well, that's okay then.

"Can he move?" Dwalin asked.

"I should hit you for that question. Let's get the swelling down.  _Then_ he can hobble along, or be carried," Oin snapped and Bilbo did a full-bodied jerk when something freezing cold was placed against his leg.

"And that's why we have to hold him," Oin stated and Bilbo is hearing that song again.

And he slips back into sleep, feeling oddly safe.

Even if the beard tickles his nose.

When Bilbo awakes again, it is to the clearing being light again and his head cradled in Bofur's gentle grip.

Bofur smiled. "Time to get you up Bilbo," he stated and Bilbo huffed a bit before he agreed to the help, waiting for Bofur to adjust his weight before he wrapped his arms around Bofur's shoulders.

Then Bilbo was standing, and he shivered a bit, feeling Bofur trembling under his grip, and Bilbo wondered how long he slept that they still shook.

He had a feeling that the spiders might have poisoned his...the Company.

He shook his head weakly, a quiet, mirthless, laugh leaving him, and began to release Bofur, his crutch being given to him. He balanced on it and saluted a bit at Dwalin, who was in the lead.

And they began to move.

Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur kept close.

But none of them could have expected Bilbo to turn  _invisible_ shortly after the Elves surrounded them.

Because Bilbo knew that he would have to save them if they wished to reach Erebor by Durin's Day.

Which Bilbo had no clue how far off that was, so he would have to work as fast as he could to save them all from the Elves.

And find Thorin.

Somehow.

 


	16. Separation (Mention of a Pet Burial, PTSD Flashback Mention, Imprisonment)

  
Bilbo probably would have at least had a fondness for these Elves akin to what he had, once, for the stray cat that had moved in with him long ago now, in the shadow of his mother's death.

(The cat that he had fed and kept, and who had slunk her way into his life and bed, and who wandered off for a few months out of the year, in spring, but always came back, until one year she didn't leave at all, and spent more and more time curled up in his lap or in front of the fire, and then she couldn't jump and had to be lifted, and one day Bilbo planted a dark crimson rose bush over a deep grave, the only flowers that the Hamfasts did not take care of for him.)

 _Probably would have_ was the key set of words, for it is the closest he can come to the truth, for they lost all chance of fondness when their King (King Thranduil, the same that turned away and did not even offer the slightest of help, even if it was just in food or guard to a safer place) ordered the Dwarves separated and the order was  _obeyed._

They probably would have earned Bilbo's fondness if they had disobeyed, for even when drugged and starving, and dehydrated, Fili and Kili fought wildly, screaming and crying for each other, because they could  _not_ be separated, could not be lost to each other, and the Elves were merciless in their aloofness, as they fought and fought and Fili slammed his head backwards into the Captain of the Guard's nose, breaking it, and leaping forward, and they eventually managed to pin them down as they fought still, and the fight left Fili the minute Kili's screams and pleadings and fight could no longer be heard.

They probably would have earned it, if they had not taken a quivering, shaking Ori who tried desperately to cling to Dori, even as Dori promised that it would all be all right in the end, with gentle hands that were forced from Ori when they hauled Dori back, who somehow stayed calm through it all, even as Nori glared at them, eyes blazing and when they moved Ori down one way and Dori another, that was Nori slammed forward, shouting and cursing them all, threatening, until one of the guards, long haired and looking a bit like the King, kicked Nori in the stomach, his eyes distantly panicked (and Bilbo forgives him for that, because Bilbo saw how the guards were reacting to Nori's threats), the words trailing off with the air forced out of Nori's lungs, while Dori snarls at that and fights a bit, but not enough to harm the elves.

(Bilbo will later recognize him as the elf that insulted Gloin's wife, and realizes that he can forgive the Elf for that as well, because when not surrounded by other Elves, when not with them, he stares down the hallway with eyes that are tormented and  _old_ , and Bilbo finds he can forgive this Elf all sorts of things that he would not forgive the other Mirkwood elves for, but that is later, much later, when he's not blinded by rage, but he cannot find it in his Hobbit heart to  _hate_ these Elves.)

The elves would have earned it if they hadn't separated a slowly descending into problematic Bifur from Bofur and Bombur, who were doing their best to calm him as their Company was separated, and really, they should have expected that reaction when they grabbed an obviously panicking, an obviously having a bit of a  _moment_ , obviously in a 'not should be touched right now' mentality, but maybe they  _don't_ , because they are so surprised, and Bofur is begging them not to hurt his cousin, please, please, he isn't  _here_ , please, please, and Bilbo...Bilbo feels his heart shatter as he watches Bofur beg and plead for them to please,  _please_ let one of them with his cousin, and Bilbo doesn't stay for the rest.

He cannot.

He follows the elves that have Bifur at a stiff pace and keeps out of the way as they throw Bifur into a small stone cell that has bars that are built into the very walls, the door a heavy thing of metal and beautiful functionality, the lock hidden away under a sliding metal piece that moves silently.

When the elves are gone, Bilbo slips over to where Bifur paces and rants and snarls in Khuzdul and the light (and Bilbo thinks it might actually be reflected sunlight) fills the air enough that he can see. Now here, he can see that, while the bars and door look equal to the wall, it is in fact in an alcove of sorts, and he curls up tight against the bars as more Dwarves are dragged down.

Bilbo watches and listens.

He hears a distant crying, which could be Ori (or Kili, because they are young, too young, and this has been a very bad day), and they lead Balin by.

Two of thirteen accounted for, because Bilbo hears the door opening and closing nearby.

Maybe three, because that soft crying is close.

He waits after that, for the light to shift slightly (definitely reflected sun then), and he hears nothing, except the snarls and curses of Khuzdul from Bifur, and even the soft crying has stilled.

Bilbo only then stands up and stilts his way down to Balin, quietly. Only when he is nestled in the alcove does he remove his ring.

The minute Balin sees Bilbo he smiles and reaches through the bars to gently touch Bilbo’s face, as if to reassure himself in the light of the dungeons that Bilbo is real. Bilbo smiles back and gently squeezes the gentle warrior’s wrist, unsure of if this is right, but Balin just gives a small nod.

Bilbo releases him and then touches the braids that are still, somehow, there in his light curls, and Balin nods, understanding the unasked question.

Bilbo takes a steadying breath, listens for the elves, looks for them down the open hallway as well, and goes back to Bifur’s alcove-cell.

The Dwarf makes the bars _hum_ when he hits them in his eagerness to get to Bilbo, and his hands are a bit too rough in touching Bilbo's face and running them though his hair and over his braids, and he's singing that song that he sung in the clearing, and Bilbo just calms him down, slowly but surely.

Bilbo has found two.

He needs to find eleven more.

And he _will_ find them, because he _must_. Because Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End and Member of this Company will _not_ let his family be separated for longer than they must be.

(Because they’ve _all_ become family, somehow, somewhere, along the way, and that leaves Bilbo a little disoriented. Because he’s not used to having a family so close after so long alone.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a fondness for cats, and a cat seemed more likely something Bilbo would have "taken in" after his mother's death, say one of the barn cats that wandered away into Hobbiton where there wasn't much for her to do, and walked right into his hole in the ground without so much as a by your leave.
> 
> And because I was thinking of a young mute Bilbo who has no close family and is quite alone in the world, and a cat suddenly waltzed into my head, as cats are wont to do, I decided he had a pet cat that


	17. Nine Found, Four Still Lost, and Still Only One Searcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some Bilbo/Bofur fluff I wrote to help fortify everyone.
> 
>  
> 
> [Shameless self-advertisement and one-shot that will probably eventually end up on A03](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4373.html?thread=10770965#t10770965)
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully enjoy.
> 
> Also, I feel I should add this to the beginning of this chapter, because unless you read comments, you won't get why the Elves are lacking knowledge about why Bifur is acting the way he is.
> 
> "I have this headcanon that Elves actually die and pass to the Halls of Mandos if they get mentally scarred enough. In other words...yeah, they have no idea with PTSD is and no way to handle it, so they actually have no clue what is going on with the crazy Dwarf with the ax to the head. They can usually mediate and heal it all away, if they don't die, or just go across the Sea."
> 
> They know something is wrong...they just have no clue what it is.
> 
> (Considering it is canon that if they are raped they die I don't think this is too far-fetched of a leap.)

The first Dwarf Bilbo found, besides Bifur and Balin, was Fili, something that Bilbo had not been expecting.

Because, it had been the blond Dwarf who had been the one crying, but Bilbo decided that it made sense, if he really thought about it. Fili probably felt guilty, for losing his brother, for not fighting hard enough, and he was exhausted and tired and hungry, and it was a lot of emotional turmoil for anyone to take, which is what Bilbo had to mentally talk himself through so he didn’t panic and do something stupid like attack Elves while he was quite injured.

As it was, it took Bilbo softly whistling _Blunt the Knives_ to get Fili out of the corner he had shoved himself into.

And when he saw Bilbo, he was across the cell and holding onto Bilbo’s face and gently fixing the braids he accidentally mussed by tucking loose strands back into the braid they had come from. He is gentle and Bilbo is sure the only thing keeping Fili from tapping his forehead over and over again to Bilbo’s is the bars.

As it is, he’s making them hum.

Bilbo takes the time for Fili being close to try and get the Dwarf prince to eat some bread.

(He manages.)

(Barely.)

*~*~*~*

It takes him four days to find the next set of three, making sure to get back down to Bifur when he can spare it, while searching for a secure place to sleep, in-between searching for the other Dwarves.

(On both searching accounts during the four days, he has no luck and it takes Bifur, eventually, holding Bilbo through the bars, somehow, so he can at least get an hour long nap in and waking him when he hears the Elves coming.)

It is Gloin Bilbo finds first.

Gloin mostly growls and grumbles over the Elf that insulted his wife, but Bilbo listens to his tales of how he met his wife, how he convinced her to look up long enough from her craft to consider Gloin, and how at first she didn’t even bother looking up to throw brittle metal at Gloin’s head.

Bilbo silently laughs at the stories and has to hide, quickly, to avoid getting caught by the Elves, so enthralled he is by the tales.

Two cells down from Gloin is Nori, who demands news of Ori, but Bilbo can only be thankful that he cannot make much noise, since Nori is not gentle when he grabs Bilbo and yanks him forward, causing him to smack his head against one of the bars and for his leg to throb and remind him it was broken, and shake his head ‘no’.

It takes Nori a bit too long to realize what the shaking head means that Bilbo doesn’t know where Ori is and a bit longer after that to realize Bilbo has the beginnings of tears in his eyes and Nori quickly releases Bilbo, who just stumbles a bit before he collapses in front of Nori’s cell (because Bilbo is tired and hurting and _hungry_ ) and Nori settles down in front of him.

(The thief doesn’t offer apologies and the burglar doesn’t ask for them. But Bilbo relaxes against the bars and Nori curls his fingers into the cuff of Bilbo’s shirt. It is forgiveness given before being asked for and forgiveness accepted while it is so freely given.)

Kili begs to know of his brother in quiet whispers and it takes Kili being calmed down by the same soft whistling, and Bilbo rubbing his wrists, before he is able to answer best he can. Kili slumps in relief against the bars, explaining he was terrified that Fili had been hauled off and executed, for he could not ask and the Elves only spoke in their Elvish tongue, so he could not guess. He trembled and shook and Bilbo spent much time carefully calming Kili down.

*~*~*~*

Three days later, the Elves put up torches and closed off the reflected sunlight.

Bilbo cried silently at the loss of sunlight, though the Dwarves didn’t seem to care, or notice, the change of lighting.

(If anything, they are thankful for it.)

*~*~*~*

It is two days, from what Bilbo can guess, (and one of those days was basically spent sleeping and eating in the storage room he found that was not really looked into, beyond to get some wine caskets from, along with comforting Bifur) that Bilbo found his next set of three.

Dwalin asks about Fili, Kili, and his brother, in that order. He gives yes-or-no questions, which Bilbo is thankful for and shoves his bread at Bilbo when he sees how Bilbo is trembling slightly and glares at Bilbo till Bilbo eats it, slowly, even accepting the water Dwalin shoved at him.

Bilbo wonders how they keep the Dwarves from attacking them and decides to focus more on the cell wall, before he feels like he wants to bang his head against the stone till he knocks himself out for not noticing it earlier.

The spots they can reach through easily enough to touch Bilbo (though Dwalin barely can) are small, and where Bilbo curls up to be with them. From there, they are slowly closed off with slowly growing criss-crossing bars until they slip seamlessly into the door, which is as decorative as ever, even in this section of the dungeons, which has a slight bite of cold.

Dori is nearly as rough as Nori in asking for Ori (never Nori, but there is another fear settled deep in Dori’s eyes and Bilbo wishes he could _tell_ Dori that Nori is safe, but he _can’t_ and he wants to cry over the fact that once again he can do nothing to ease the pain of a family member, for his voice has never worked), but thankfully not as rough or there would probably be blood on the bars.

As it was, he still bumped the bruise that Nori gave him and Bilbo couldn’t answer the rapid fire questions and it took him trembling for Dori to calm down and, once calm, instantly apologize for his actions.

Bilbo forgave him easily and fully, because he could understand the panic, had been on the receiving end of it in the Shire on occasion when he ran, breathless and frightened, into a Took smial, being shaken for explanations he could not give till they remembered he could not speak and he lead them to the problem.

(Had been the one to feel it when he opened the front door, his mother at market and his father having gone over to a relative’s a few days ago, confused why the two Hobbits at the door looked gleefully sad, and later he would learn they were Sackville-Baggins, who thought they would finally get Bag-End in the wake of his father’s death and Bilbo not even close to his coming of age.)

(And they, like Bilbo, carry only bad news, for here, no news is bad news, not good.)

Bombur is gentle as he runs feather light fingers over the bruise on his forehead and comforting fingers through his hair, what he can reach at any rate. Bilbo trembles lightly, from the fact that he has not felt, or seen, the sun since entering Mirkwood (and he’s no longer sure how long ago that was) and they’ve been trapped here for at least a week, and all he wants to do is cry and be held, but he’s the only one free, he’s the only one who can get the _rest_ free, so he _can’t_.

But by Yavanna, he wants to.

(Later, back in the storeroom, after visiting Bifur, he curls up and sobs silently until he’s exhausted and dried out, and feels sick, more so than what is now _normal_ for him, because there is no sun, because the ring is a shackle, something he _must_ wear unless in front of Bifur’s cell or one of the others when they need to ask him something, singing _Blunt the Knives_ , which no longer makes Bilbo smile at the fond memories because he’s just too _tired_ , when they need to talk to him, and he’s starting to fall into the habit of dodging away from touch when all he wants to do is desperately cling to it and never let it go. and he shivers with the cold because he doesn’t have their blankets strapped to his back anymore, and his leg throbs in pain, and he has to shove his hand into his mouth to keep his ragged, dry, sobs from being heard when he runs out of liquid tears, adding the pain of his self-made bite injury to the list of things that are making Mirkwood far more miserable than it was before, even when starving, dehydrated, and having to fight giant spiders.)

*~*~*~*

It is two days after this that Bilbo finds Bofur.

And he finds him in the most unexpected of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who I broke up, how, and why, so it is clear.
> 
> Bifur - Balin - Fili
> 
> When I was first writing this, I knew it was Fili that was crying. I don't know why this was so, just that it was so. And I knew that Bifur would be with Bilbo, in a sense, so I had to have Fili. Balin was picked because I like Balin.
> 
> Gloin - Nori - Kili 
> 
> Kili needs reassurances that his brother wasn't dragged off and killed
> 
> Dwalin - Dori - Bombur
> 
> Because Dwalin is cool, Dori reacted like Nori (only gentler), and Bombur comforted him.
> 
> Ori - Oin - Bofur
> 
> Because I am evil and I want the three that would be the most worried about Bilbo being found last.
> 
> Thorin is all be his lonesome and the last to be found.
> 
> I tried my hardest to keep direct family members separated, because the Elves would have done that. In the book, they were scattered all over and I think it took _weeks_ for Bilbo to find everyone, including Thorin.
> 
> Also, while this will be explained by Bilbo, that isn't anytime soon, but if you want explanation of why Bilbo is getting all shaky and stuff...
> 
> It is because he's been so long without direct sunlight which, in my headcanon, Hobbits need to be healthy. Because I have a headcanon that while everyone needs direct sunlight, you can get away with not going into direct sunlight through supplements (like fruits and things that have the needed vitamin D), Hobbits _can't_. They need direct sunlight to keep healthy and without it for so long (the travel through Mirkwood before now getting all trapped in a dungeon, for _days_ ) he is starting to become ill.
> 
> (Also, my death means no more updates ever.)


	18. Bofur, Oin, and Ori (and Thorin too)

Bilbo never thought following the guard who looked like he wanted to bash his head into the nearest stone wall over delivering a meal to one of the dwarves would result in finding Bofur. He never thought that the ‘angry Dwarf that looked like he wanted to remove the head of whichever Elf was in sight’ was _Bofur_.

So Bilbo thinks he can be forgiven for thinking it was _Thorin_ they were talking about.

*~*~*~*

The cell was different from the rest, not meant to hold for the long term, though Bilbo was just guessing on this front.

With better lighting (but still no sun), the bars were twisting roots that had been coaxed through stone, and there was a solid oak door set in the wall with no bars near it at all.

It was also the only one to hold three members of the Company.

And he never expected it to be _Bofur_ who glared violently at the elf who brought their food. He did not expect the Elf to flinch back, as if expecting to be attacked before carefully pushing the three bowls, one by one, with the tray, through the sliding slot at the bottom of the door before tearing off as if the werewolf of legend was at his very heels.

The entire time, Bofur glares and glowers, and at one point even snarled out something in Khuzdul.

But other than that, Bofur did nothing.

“Snarling at them doesn’t help anything lad,” Oin grumbled, as Ori brought over two bowls of stew, bouncing slightly as he handed them over to the older pair before returning for his own bowl.

Bilbo had learned, from Dwalin, that stew was their first meal of the day, and bread the last, though he wasn’t sure why. “They took my cousin, who was in a bad place, separated me from my brother, and _Bilbo is missing_! I think I am allowed to snarl and growl at them to my heart’s content!” Bofur retorted and Oin pointedly focused on his stew, carefully swirling it around in the bowl, while Ori ate his portion, slowly.

“On the bright side, they mostly leave us alone,” Ori stated.

“If we had any desire to, we could break out that way,” Oin muttered, proving that he had heard Bofur earlier and was ignoring him.

Bilbo had, at this point found the widest point in the tree roots and, after listening for Elves, he pulled off the ring.

Bofur glanced up, possibly to retort, only to still upon seeing Bilbo.

Bilbo waved, hesitantly and then Bofur’s bowl was on the ground, the stew spilling, and he was barreling across the cell, sliding on the stone slightly as he nearly crashed into the roots, before he carefully pulled Bilbo closer to him, whispering Bilbo’s name over and over again, as if it was a prayer, or the only word that meant anything in the whole of Middle Earth.

Bilbo smiled back, even as the other two, far more carefully, made their way over, Ori managing to yank Bilbo’s ankle up so Oin could look it over, Bofur gently nudging his nose against Bilbo’s forehead (and Bilbo managing not to wince when the nose brushed along the bruise) and carefully massaging the base of Bilbo’s skull with the tips of his fingers.

And Bilbo stills suddenly when he feels the press of lips to his hair, something that seems to mean _more_ , to the point where even his _breathing_ stops until he lets out a low hiss as Oin carefully investigates his leg. He wants to pull away, but him practically being trapped to the bars keeps him still and he scowls briefly before he feels himself relax as Bofur’s fingertips continue to massage the base of his skull lightly.

“Thank Mahal, it is still aligned properly,” Oin muttered and Bilbo twisted slightly to look at where his ankle was cradled, carefully and Bofur is already looking like he wants to see if he can pull Bilbo through the bars. But Bilbo just beings to let his hands flutter.

_“I’m fine.”_

“No, you’re not. But you will be. You’re eating right?” Bofur retorted and as Ori carefully lowered Bilbo’s leg back to the ground while Bilbo nodded a bit.

 _“I found the others, except Thorin. They said angry Dwarf, so I thought it was him. You were quite terrifying, however,”_ he gestured as Bifur had taught him and Bofur gave a low laugh.

“Yeah, well, don’t keep Dwarves from…why is there a bruise on your forehead?” Bofur returned and then he was carefully leaning Bilbo away, so he could really look at Bilbo, frowning more as his eyes darted over Bilbo’s face, the frown deepening as he saw more than the bruise.

Bilbo huffed a bit at the sudden change, hoping to gesture to distract, but was cut off by a feather light kiss to the bruise that had Bilbo attempting to jerk back in pain, stopped only by Bofur’s gentle grip, fingers slipping slightly to cradle his head.

Oin had managed to get over to the pair and had begun hovering, after using Ori as a crutch to get off the ground and inspected it quietly.

“What did you do, crash into metal bars?” Oin grumbled lowly and Bilbo nodded a bit.

He was rather thankful that the sounds of someone approaching forced Bofur to let him go and Bilbo was quick to slip on the ring and disappear as the Elf that insulted Gloin’s wife walked down the hallway, looking neither left nor right.

Bilbo gently pat Bofur’s hand and then slipped away after the Elf.

Maybe he could find Thorin this way.

(And, maybe, if he moved away, he wouldn’t have to think on the kisses given. Because Bilbo could think of no reason he had been gifted the kisses, none that crossed his mind, because what did Broken Bilbo Baggins do to deserve Bofur?)

Mentally Bilbo flinched as the old nickname curled its way through his mind, reminding him, harshly, exactly why Bofur would _never_ feel that way about him, for all that he _seemed_ to.

*~*~*~*

The dungeons grew darker and colder as he followed after the Elf. He paused when the Elf did and jumped slightly as he suddenly punched the wall, taking deep, calming breaths, before he pulled his fist away from stone and rubbed it slightly, shaking his head lightly.

A few more breaths and the Elf continued.

Bilbo followed, glancing up at the stone the Elf had punched.

He does not think it was shadows that touched that stone, not that way.

*~*~*~*

Bilbo can hear a river when he found Thorin. The Elf had thrown a blanket in, quick and furious in his movements, enough for Bilbo to hear Thorin easily, and glared at any other that tried to argue with him.

There was a chill to the air and a cold that bit at Bilbo’s lungs and there was no way that Bilbo ever would be able to see Thorin, except that he saw the slot at the bottom of the door that was obviously an allowance for food and the guards were _just_ down the hall and Bilbo suddenly realized that he would have to be creative to tell Thorin anything.

The paper was easy.

Getting a quill and ink was not.

Figuring out if Thorin had enough light to read by or not was just this side of impossible.

Somehow, Bilbo managed to get all three things done.

And then he wrote out the important information.

_12 found. 12 cared for. 12 captured._

He just hoped Thorin could figure out what it meant.

*~*~*~*

“Well done Halfling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do people automatically assume the worst of me?
> 
> Just because I love taking these wonderful characters and breaking them into itsy-bitsy pieces doesn't mean that I am going to do the most horrible things imaginable to them!
> 
> And I'm not going to kill Bilbo!
> 
> (Well, not in this part anyway. Or the next.)


	19. A Very Unhobbitlike Plan (Kind-of)

“You are very lucky I don’t have my knitting needles on me. Or my quills,” Ori stated, in Khuzdul, and Bofur glanced over at the youngest in the cell, even as he used the straw to help dry the stew, feeling better than he had in days, even though he was worried for Bilbo.

“Why’s that?” Bofur asked in the same language.

“Because you are being stupid,” Ori returned, even as Oin gave him a disapproving look.

“It is not our place to meddle. This is for family,” Oin stated and Ori shot him a look.

“Fine, I won’t bring it up, until I receive permission from the Patriarch of his Family. And _then_ I’ll meddle,” Ori snapped and Bofur smiled.

“Where did the little soft scribe go?” Bofur teased gently.

Ori immediately blushed and ducked his head a bit before his eyes drifted to the roots that made up their bars and frowned a bit. “When he realized that one of the few friends he had ever had, who never teased him, who accepted his questions, who _listened_ and who _explained_ …when he realized that friend…was in a need of _something_ , and _why_ , he decided to make sure that that _something_ would happen, no matter who or what needed to be threatened,” Ori answered softly, twisting his fingers nervously in his cardigan, his frown deepening before he sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Bofur frowned at Ori, but he knew the scribe would not explain further, if the way Oin was scowling at the young scribe was any indication. “I wonder if it will be that brown nutty bread again tonight,” Ori questioned lightly, in the Common tongue and soon they were debating the different breads they had been given (all on their way to staling, just only slightly off, but not enough to hurt them) while Bofur continued to dry up the stew with the straw.

But his mind turned to Bilbo and what Ori said, and he frowned as he thought on it.

And he didn’t like what it implied, especially with his realization that he did not know what Bilbo traced into his palm in the dark, or when he had realized that Bilbo often sat quietly and smiled and _listened_ as if your words were air and he could not live without them, but how many times had he wanted to return their stories and jokes with ones of his own?

The thought has him kicking the bowl hard enough to send it flying and cracking against the stone wall as his temper gets the best of him, his lips curling into a snarl before he lets out a deep breath.

Behind him, the argument about types of bread has not even shifted in volume.

But this does mark the second bowl Bofur has broken.

(Bofur thinks they should stop giving them wooden bowls. He can’t be the _only_ one who keeps cracking the Mahal-cursed things.)

(He is, of the twelve.)

*~*~*~*

The water is so loud that Bilbo can hear nothing as he watches the way the water practically _leaps_ from the underground imprisonment from under the palace, sweeping the empty barrels down the river as the Elves push the empty barrels down, to Laketown.

Before he came out here, he had listened to the guards and listened to them speak of the barrels they pushed down to Laketown, part of a bartering system, though what they traded for and why Bilbo did not know.

He knew not all of the barrels were empty, that some were trade goods, but most were, and Bilbo watched them work from the shadows and longing to run to the edge of the dock and stand in the sun that gleamed down.

But, he couldn’t, because the way the water churned soaked the stone and sprayed water everywhere, he would be soaked in an instant.

So, no matter how much he may want to, Bilbo stayed in the shadows, out of the way and pretending that he didn’t want to just curl in the sun and no move.

Bilbo silently counted the number of barrels pushed over and frowned a bit.

There are not many barrels and, from here he can’t tell which are empty or not and one is barely large enough to hold one Dwarf.

The Elves are talking to each other, but he can’t hear a thing as he stares at the rushing river, the barrels having already been shoved out of sight, and wonders if nearly drowning will be worth saving the Company.

(The answer is, and always will be, yes.)

*~*~*~*

“I don’t like this plan,” Thorin rumbles lowly and Bilbo rolls his eyes, thankful that he is invisible to all.

He doesn’t _care_ that Thorin doesn’t like the plan, there is going to be a festival and a feast, with lots of drinking, and there is just no way that they can pass it up. The river is the only way out and the only thing Bilbo didn’t explain was the fact that he would not get a barrel of his own.

Thorin let out a low sigh as Bilbo began to whistle, lowly, the very song they had sung in Bag-End.

“I despise you right now Halfling,” Thorin said and Bilbo shrugged, even though no one could see it.

He then carefully slid the food slot shut and hobbled away.

He wanted to sit with Bofur, Oin, and Ori for a while before he went down to curl against the bars of Bifur’s cell, but he couldn’t.

He had to go on an impossible search for supplies.

After “explaining” to Thorin about how he found everyone, he had requested that Bilbo find what supplies he could and gather them together.

Which complicated things because, beyond the small things (such as Gloin’s locket, Ori’s journal, Bifur’s whittling knives, and Bofur’s flute, a new one Bifur had carved at Beorn’s), there was _nothing_ Bilbo could find that no one wouldn’t miss.

But Bilbo had just reached in, during one of the few time he was visible and pressed the symbol of _yes_ into Thoroin’s palm and tried his best, knowing why Thorin had requested it.

The request came from the fact that there was no coin for supplies, not much anyway, and if they wished to get to the Lonely Mountain _alive_ , they would need supplies.

Bilbo bit back his sigh and hobbled to see if he could find a way to store the dried meat in the storage room he slept in somewhere, slowly, over the next five days so they would at least have _something_.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed during the winter months.

(Because, otheriwse, Bilbo feels he might never forgive himself.)


	20. A Festival of a Feast

“Oh, Bilbo,” Bofur breathed out as he carefully pulled Bilbo’s too pale, too thin, wrist through the root bars, while he carefully cradled Bilbo’s head with his hand.

Bilbo gave Bofur a weak smile in the stretching shadow that was night for this cell and Bofur ran his thumb lightly in circles against the heel of Bilbo’s hand. He shifted closer to the tree root bars and pressed a soft, lingering, kiss to Bilbo’s forehead, missing the bruise. Bilbo shivered lightly at it, soaking in the comfort and curling towards it.

The feast was just a day away and Bilbo knew he should be gathering up what he could, hiding it away, and preparing to hide the stuff in the barrels to get pushed out as the festival came to a close, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

His breathing was starting to worsen and he clung, mentally, to what Bofur was giving so willingly, and it felt _nice_ and he wasn’t going to let his thoughts stray down dangerous paths, he was just going to enjoy these precious moments that were often cut too short by the footsteps of the guards.

Such as now.

Bilbo carefully pulled away and then his ring was on his finger and he was gone.

Bofur would, no doubt, be demanding an explanation later, when they were out and safe, but till then he just stared at where Bilbo had disappeared before he shifted his body to glare at the guard, the Captain if the bruise across the nose was anything to go off of.

“Glaring does not make us wish to release you,” the Captain stated and Bofur shrugged a bit before he answered with something that was probably very rude in Khuzdul.

Bilbo covered his face with his hand, pretending that he wasn’t in the middle of this conversation.

Well, in the middle as in he was stuck there, listening to Bofur purposely egg the Captain on.

When the Captain walked on, Bilbo gently pat Bofur's hand before he hobbled off after the Captain, listening carefully to the preperations.

The feast would begin at sundown and would carry on through the night. A selection of guards would be chosen and rotate out, as the prisioners had not shown many problems.

Bilbo knew for a fact they had taken to chaining Nori away from the bars, as he had a habit of trying to  _bite_ his captors, but Bilbo perked up at the news that they were allowed to partake in a light wine during their meals in the room outside of the solitary confinement that was Thorin's cell, and Bilbo smiled weakly at that.

He knew, exactly, how he was going to get the Company free, along with how he was going to get them out.

First, he needed to find the wine caskets for the main party.

Specifically, the small ones.

*~*~*~*

Changing the weak wine for the festival/feast worthy wine was frighteningly easy and he just did his best to avoid the drunken guards, who were just excited they had managed to get the good wine.

They were being rather stupid and Bilbo was sure that Thorin would have all sorts of unsavory things to say about the guards and the cells once they were safe and out in the sun.

(Bilbo still thought this was the worst plan he had ever cobbled together, but it was the only one he had.)

*~*~*~*

The Elves of Mirkwood are odd when drunk, near senseless and not realizing when their keys have been stolen.

Not realizing when the near empty barrel was replaced with a mostly full one, to encourage the drinking, nor did they notice when the door slid closed on its own accord, separating the hall with the isolation cells from their eating room.

Bilbo, still invisible, smiled a bit at the keys in his hand and quickly headed for where Bofur, Oin, and Ori were.

(He just hoped he managed to convince the Dwarves to get into the stupid barrels without anyone learning that he wasn’t going to be in one.)

*~*~*~*

The reunion between Dori and Ori mainly consisted of Ori being nearly crushed by Dori. When they got to Nori, it was similar, and Bilbo, from where he was being carried by Bofur, was immensely relieved, even as he urged them to pick up speed.

Bifur and Bombur are near terrifying when they can finally hug their family close, Bilbo still held gently in Bofur’s arms as if he’s precious and wondrous (which he really _isn’t_ and Bofur is going to realize it eventually), and Bombur looks near panicked because of how bad Bilbo looks and Bilbo wishes, desperately that he could erase that look of dread of Bombur’s face but he _can’t_ so he doesn’t try to, beyond giving a weak smile.

(It doesn’t work, just as Bilbo was sure it wouldn’t.)

*~*~*~*

Bilbo rolls his eyes at the fact Nori insisted on picking the lock instead of just letting Bilbo open it with the keys he had and Bilbo didn’t think much of tossing them to Nori when he asked.

He was a bit surprised when they clattered and clinked to the ground, not even halfway to Nori, who didn’t look surprised, but drawing everyone’s attention.

Thorin stilled upon seeing him and crossed over, gently grabbing Bilbo’s face. “What happened?” he asked, but Bilbo just shrugged weakly and pointed behind them, towards the sounds of the rushing river.

It has now become a worse plan, because Bilbo is still staring at the keys as Nori picks them up, afterhe walked over to them.

Bilbo might have to put something unpleasant in Nori’s food later for outing him like this.

(But after they are safe and _not_ at risk of being recaptured.)

*~*~*~*

Bilbo manages, barely, to convince the Dwarves to get into the barrels, having already eased the tops off.

The first one he traps in is Bofur, followed by Bifur and Bombur.

Ori and Oin are close calls, and Thorin is after when he realizes what Bilbo is doing.

Dwalin glares the rest into submission and eyes Bilbo. “You have a plan for yourself?” he asked.

Bilbo nodded.

“Is it safe?” Balin pressed.

Bilbo doesn’t look at him, which earns sighs from the pair of them.

But Dwalin’s allowance of being sealed into the barrel and Balin’s settling into it lets the others go quietly. It is Nori that gently grabs his arm and stares at him. “Is it very dangerous?” he asked lowly.

Bilbo hesitated and then shook his head no, thankful he could not speak.

It meant Nori couldn’t catch him in the lie.

(Fili and Kili put up minimal fuss, but only because they are next to each other, barrel wise.)

Once all the Dwarves are settled and there are footfalls, Bilbo slips on the ring and waits.

When the last of the barrels is pushed over, Bilbo sprints forward, and _leaps_ , hitting the barrel and making it bob. He nearly slips right off and it twists around, as if it were a living thing while Bilbo scrambles pathetically, getting soaked to the bone and coughing up water whenever he has the chance, while also attempting to breath as he rushes down the river on his barrel, clinging desperately while he prays to whoever will listen to please keep his family safe.

(And, when he thinks of it, prays that he lives beyond this barrel ride.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to rewrite this, a lot.
> 
> After the twelth time, I gave up.
> 
> I apologize if it seems rushed, but the story was just like, "GO, GO, GO, GO, GO!!"
> 
> And I was like, "Okay, okay. I'm going, I'm going."
> 
> (But, however, I know why it is all...jumbly. Bilbo's POV is awesome. Well, Limited Third Person Bilbo POV, but still, his POV.)


	21. Water Water Everywhere, and All There to Drink (VERY Graphic Description of Near-Drowning)

Bilbo was trembling as he clung desperately to his barrel, the relief of pale sunlight not enough to override his complete terror, as he is sent into near panic every time the barrel spun around, dunking him in the water and thankful when he managed to get it upright so he could tremble and cough out water, clinging desperately to the barrel even as his limbs felt like liquid, knowing that if he lost his grip on the barrel, he would drown in an instant, having no knowledge of swimming or even how to float.

If he lost his grip, he would be held in the grip of the river, never to surface, and then who would get the Dwarves out of their barrels?

He clung tighter to the barrel and heaved a sigh of relief as they came to a calm bend.

With shaking fingers, Bilbo removed his ring and pocketed in the securest pocket he had, making sure it wouldn't fall out before he went back to clinging, desperately, to the barrel.

He isn't expecting the sound of cracking wood and he jumps, letting out a soundless scream when his fingers slip. He scrabbles at the barrel, not feeling the wood give, and feels his lower body land in the water, and he is trying to grab onto the barrel once more, get his handhold back, but he can't seem to find it and his eyes widen in fear, and desperation fills his being as they turn the corner to find it rushing almost again, but not as fast as before.

It batters him against the barrel, and still he struggles to pull himself back up onto the barrel. He trembles with the effort and begins to pant as exhaustion begins to pull on his limbs and make his sight go gray.

He can't hear anything but his pounding heart and the river around him and the water is now up to his chin as he tries desperately to claws his way back up onto the barrel.

And then the river takes a sharp turn and the churning dislodges him.

He doesn't have time to close his mouth before the water floods it and he is forced under the water, the cold bite filling his tongue. It tastes like washed out dirt and stone and he thinks his head breaks the water, once, maybe, before he is back under, legs and arms kicking frantically, up, this has to be up, because his hand feels  _frozen_ , but he knows it doesn't matter.

Bilbo knows, like he knows that if given the chance Bofur would have realized that Bilbo wasn't worth it, that the river will take him. This strange river will take him as it has probably taken others.

And his thoughts are interrupted as suddenly there is warmth around his chest, like a brand and his head feels frozen and he feels something against his back that is not wood or water.

And then his world is darkness.

*~*~*~*

Bofur knows there is something wrong.

Beyond the fact Bilbo sealed him into a barrel (not airtight, but Bofur isn’t surprised by that; Bilbo always seems to be more concerned about the Company than himself) had sent alarm bells ringing.

Now, as he rushed through a river, he just focused on getting the barrel upright (and that took some doing and a calm section) before he began to slam his body against the lid, feeling it starting to give after two hits, and splintering at the third. He pulled himself up so he was standing in the barrel and nearly sent into the water, before searching for everyone else, finding that others had also gotten their barrels upright.

In fact, Dori just broke out now.

But Bofur doesn’t care, he’s looking for Bilbo and his heart stills in his chest when he sees Bilbo clinging desperately, half in the water, to a barrel.

Bilbo never got in a barrel.

Bofur doesn’t think too much on it. The river’s current has picked up enough so that he can use it to head towards Bilbo, praying to Mahal that they’ll get out of this.

It isn’t a mountain, but Mahal will not let one so close to his wife perish, will he?

Not here, not so far from where he belongs, in his sunny Shire, and he lets out a cry (he thinks he shouts Bilbo’s name) as Bilbo ducks further, his head barely about over the water, and the water is rushing too loudly (or maybe it is his heartbeat) and he continues to use the current to propel him towards _his_ (no matter that Thorin had hugged him) Hobbit as he leans towards Bilbo, enough so he is headed that way.

The scream of “No,” is definitely his as Bilbo slips under the water.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Bofur slips out of his barrel without enough presence of mind to insure his hat remains on his head (because he knows that sometimes one can only recognize a silhouette when in the throes of agony or pain and that it is best to keep it snug on his head) before he’s heading towards the thrashing Bilbo. There is a hand above the water and Bofur, somehow, grabs Bilbo and he’s swimming back, letting out a startled yelp as someone suddenly hauls him back and he finds himself looking up at a concerned Dori and there is _solid ground_ under his back.

He doesn’t pause.

He shoves Bilbo onto the ground and finds him still.

He remembers the Kiss of Life, as they called it in the mines.

(Never knew when water would abrupt out, never knew when you could save a fellow miner.)

He pinches Bilbo’s nose and seals his lips over Bilbo’s before he breathes in. He presses on Bilbo’s chest (feels something _shift_ under his hands but shoves that thought to the side) and turns Bilbo to the side briefly before he repeats.

He repeats it even when the others tell him it is pointless and Bilbo’s lips are tinted blue.

And then Bilbo is coughing and gagging and Bofur turns him onto his side, pounding Bilbo’s back to help him clear out his lungs and there is some vomit smell as well, but Bofur doesn’t care, because the minute Bilbo begins gasping for air, Bofur is pulling Bilbo up into his arms, onto his lap and sobbing into where Bilbo’s jawline met his neck, one hand cradling Bilbo’s head, burying fingers into soaked curls, the other arm wrapped firmly around Bilbo’s hips, arm crossing up to rest on Bilbo’s shoulder blade.

Bilbo’s gasping pants is the Song of Life itself against his very ear and he doesn’t even realize words are falling past his lips.

“Thank Mahal, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you Mahal, thank you, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part, before the cute little scene break thing I do, was 500 words exactly.
> 
> (I was tempted to be very cruel and split the two POVs between two different chapters. I decided that would be too cruel and just made it all one chapter.)


	22. Entering Lake-Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday I had a headache that would make an elephant collapse on the ground and not move till it passed.
> 
> So you get new chapter today instead.
> 
> Because I couldn't even write yesterday.

It takes Bifur longer than anyone thought it would to go join the pair, Bombur close at his heels. He somehow curls himself around his half-drowned family, starting to shiver and Bilbo lets out a pathetic sound when Bifur’s shadow crosses his face, cutting off the thin afternoon sun, speaking of the turning of the seasons.

Bifur didn’t hesitate to shift so his shadow didn’t cross over Bilbo’s face and, once Bilbo had the sun shining weakly on him, he turned to it, like some delicate plant, like one of his flowers in his garden. He was shivering, miserable, and he was far paler then he should be, paler then he had been in the dungeons they were sure, but the small, relieved, smile was enough to make those of the Company able to see Bilbo’s face relax.

As it was, Bofur was only now starting to calm down, and he was looking at Bilbo as if he had just been handed the Arkenstone and told it was his, or, probably far more accurately, had discovered a great vein of mithril all on his own that would support a small kingdom for a year, and he still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.

But it took Bombur to coax them up onto their feet, to help Bofur steady as his legs nearly gave out while the blood rushed back to them.

But Bofur would not release Bilbo, carefully curling him tighter to his chest, wincing as Bilbo made more noises and tried to _claw_ his way to the sun, the direct sunlight, until Bofur managed to adjust them so the sun fell over Bilbo’s face once more.

And then Oin let out a vicious and violent curse.

When they looked at Bilbo’s legs it was to notice that his splint was disheveled and his foot twisted at an odd angle. “There’s a town down…” Thorin ordered only to trail off.

They followed Thorin’s gaze, Balin letting out a low sound of awe as the Company (minus one Hobbit, who was turned toward the sun), beyond the town on dock in the bay of the river they had managed to find themselves in, across wasteland and the fallen Dale, was the Lonely Mountain.

Thorin seemed to be overcome for a moment.

He stared at the mountain as if it was everything, and then tore his eyes away. “We need to head to the town. And find out the date,” Thorin ordered and they nodded, though Bofur frowned a bit before he adjusted Bilbo so that he could still keep to the sun as he followed after, having to let Bifur and Bombur help steady him as his legs were feeling as if they were mostly tingling numb things that could barely support his weight.

*~*~*~*

At some point during their escape, Nori had found their weapons, though when or how, Bofur wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. Right now, he was just focused on helping to dry Bilbo off, detaching himself from the situation, shaking slightly at how cold Bilbo felt under everything and he himself was starting to shiver and shudder as he helped to get Bilbo under the covers of the bed, his Hobbit trying to drag himself over to the window.

Bofur let out a yelp as he was descended on by his brother and cousin who helped get him as dry as Bilbo and into a fresh set of undergarments before being shoved into bed with Bilbo, quickly pulling the shivering, clawing for the window, Bilbo into his arms. He curled around the shivering and frozen Bilbo, carefully rubbing Bilbo’s chest as he curled around Bilbo.

Bilbo was making more sounds and reaching for the window (which was next to the tall, shuttered, windows to the balcony) and Bofur hated carefully grabbing Bilbo’s wrist and pulling him fully under the thick covers as he helped hold him still while Oin carefully reset Bilbo’s broken bone, Bifur and Bombur helping to hold them still through the covers, though that didn’t stop Bilbo’s full body jerk of pain.

“We’ll see about getting some things for Bilbo, soon, but in the meantime, keep him warm,” Oin ordered as he shuffled out of the room.

Bofur let out a shaky laugh as he felt Bifur’s callused fingers beginning to work into his hair, shaking slightly and he knew Bifur was clinging tightly to the last shreds of his control as he brushed out Bofur’s mess of hair before he rebraided it. Bofur was aware that Bombur was doing the same to a shaking, coughing, sobbing, Bilbo, who was flickering something with his hand, but Bofur couldn’t understand it.

He didn’t know why Bilbo fought for the window and eventually just let his body collapse, as if all his energy was used up in reaching for something he could not grasp. Bofur just murmured soothingly, trying to coax Bilbo to relax, to stay in the warm confines, to sleep, but Bilbo just seemed to shake worse as time wore on, as if he was a man dying of thirst and given only drops of water before it was cruelly snatched from him, his hand still making the aborted, strange, gesture that Bofur did not know.

As Bofur held Bilbo, with Bifur at his back, carefully holding onto both of them, and Bombur on the other side of Bilbo (though the weight of three Dwarves and a Hobbit made the bed groan), he couldn’t help but feel as if something was wrong, something horribly wrong.

The next morning, when Bofur awoke to discover Bilbo with a raging fever and a hacking, wet, cough, Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin would softly discuss their suspicions over how _helpful_ the Master of Laketown was being, despite Thorin, and Nori’s, insurances that they were just heading to the Iron Hills and had gotten turned about when they lost their ponies due to orc problems. They did not like the hopeful looks the citizens of Lake-town threw their way while Bard, who had shown them the way to the unoccupied home, filled with a fine layer of dust, had looked more concerned than hopeful, as if he was worried over why they were there, and what they would wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I hope I did Lake-town justice (even if I like to think of it as "the big huge giant dock that is in the bay of the big huge scary river that nearly killed Bilbo") and I gleefully ignored canon with them being fished out of the water by the Men of Lake-town, because that wasn't happening.
> 
> They wouldn't let Bofur have his moment with Bilbo.
> 
> And my little shipper heart needed that.


	23. The Sign for Sun

“Why is he signing ‘sun’?” Ori asked, having come up to join Bofur and Bilbo on the second day up the bedroom.

“What?” Bofur asked softly as he carefully wrung out the rag of frozen water, having long given up on putting Bilbo’s hand under the covers, the twitching gesture a continuous pleading, begging, that Bofur couldn’t understand, and replacing it on Bilbo’s forehead, wincing at the full-body shudder that practically lifted Bilbo off the bed, even as Bofur rubbed Bilbo’s cheek comfortingly, humming lowly and trying to calm him down.

“That gesture, it is for sun. Bilbo was teaching me songs, he said that it was fun for someone who was voiceless to teach someone a song,” Ori explained and Bofur stilled at that explanation, silently cursing himself for using the time Bilbo took to teach them _his_ gesture language to stare shamelessly at Bilbo instead of actually learning what Bilbo was teaching them, something Bofur was sure Bifur would scold him for if he knew.

But, as Bofur thought on the constant twitching of Bilbo’s hand in the symbol for ‘sun’, as if he was begging, and he remembered how Bilbo turned to the sun at the riverbank and how Bilbo had reached for it, fought for it, when Bifur had accidentally cut it off, and how he clawed for it till the energy left him, leaving him with only the ability to sign one symbol while he lay trapped in the dark.

And that made Bofur feel sick, for his part in keeping Bilbo prisoner, keeping him from something he so desired that he fought the very people he considered family for it.

“Ori, open the way to the balcony,” he ordered as he carefully wrapped Bilbo up in the covers enough to keep him warm in the cold of autumn, but allows him sunlight, while Ori rushed to the shuttered window-doors (that made no sense to Bofur, but there they were) and hesitated as his hands touched the handles.

“Bofur, is that…”

“Ori, open the way to direct sunlight _now_ before I have Bifur just break it open,” Bofur warned and Ori rushed to get them open, knowing when Bofur was idly threatening him or not by this point.

This was not an idle threat and Bofur was glad to see Ori had already learned the difference.

The moment the window-doors were open, he stepped out of the way and Bofur stepped out into the frozen autumn noonday sun.

Bofur carefully shifted and practically stilled at the fact that Bilbo twisted into the sun, a blissful and relieved smile on his face. Bofur just nuzzled Bilbo’s hair, carefully, before he pressed a kiss with his lips to Bilbo’s hair, ignoring Ori’s squeak.

Instead, he settled so Bilbo could enjoy the sun, carefully cradling Bilbo in his arms, Bilbo’s fingers wrapped tight in Bofur’s jacket, shuddering and shivering in Bofur’s arms, but relaxed and _happy_. Bofur just held him and, eventually, Ori settled next to them.

“Why sun Bilbo?” Ori asked then.

But it was too late.

Bilbo had fallen back asleep.

Ori, brave soul that he is, even when he thinks he’s not, faces Oin and argues for keeping Bilbo on the balcony and Bifur helps Ori stand before the enraged medic.

(Bofur isn’t sure what to think about that.)


	24. Discussions of Listening

*~*~*~*

“No, that’s sun. This is mathom. He still hasn’t explained what that is, but he promised he would,” Ori corrected.

Bifur huffed a bit over the unfamiliar sign, but he couldn’t let such a slight happen again. He could not have his Adoptee without a means to communicate, even if it was just a few simple symbols that were completely out of Bifur’s knowledge. He sighed gently and signed, _“Why did you decide to help him?”_ he gestured.

Ori frowned a bit and he leaned back slightly. “Bilbo is a lot like me. No one really talks to us expecting us to answer with our own thoughts. We listen, and we watch, and we smile, unless we have questions. Questions which prompt more listening and more watching and more smiles, maybe comfort. No one ever expects us to answer, because no one thinks we have anything worthy to say. Probably. I just know that when I spoke, no one listened. Not even my brothers,” Ori responded softly and shrugged a bit.

Before Bifur could say anything, there was Dori’s shout of, “Ori!”

Ori let out a low sigh and turned with a smile as Dori quickly hauled him up and hugged him. He patted Ori all over, ignoring Ori’s protests that he was _fine_ , honest, and then he was being hugged tightly again.

Bifur watched and wondered if maybe this is why Ori felt as if he had little value. Though there were a few times when Ori was ignored when he said something, the others of the Company shrugging off what he said as something that only youngsters would say (though Fili and Kili got the exact same treatment, though not as often due to the fact they were both of the royal line, and Fili, and Kili now, were seasoned warriors).

Out of sight, but not out of hearing, Nori closed his eyes in resisted the urge to slam his head against the nearest wall.

For how could they have let Ori grow believing that no one listened to him, that his words had no value?

And Nori curses himself for driving Dori’s protective instincts up the wall, curses himself for dragging Ori on this quest (because if they took the time to _listen_ , maybe he would have stayed home, safe, along with Dori), and curses himself for getting caught the one time it _mattered_ if he did or not.

He slips away at that and goes to find a place to gamble.

He needs to fleece coin from drunken idiots.

*~*~*~*

Dwalin glanced up from where he was taking care of his axes, noticing how Thorin was internally snarling and snapping over the loss of weapons. “There will be more in Erebor, Thorin,” Balin stated from where he was writing out a slight balancing of books from where the Company had started to pick about for odd jobs to help gather supplies, Thorin not trusting the Mayor’s generosity.

“We could just send gold from Erebor,” Dwalin muttered lowly.

“But we aren’t headed that way,” Thorin answered, watching the way Fili and Kili were peeking up the stairs, no doubt deciding if they should sneak up to visit their Burglar or not.

The Halfling, for all that he started out as a burden, has proven himself. For now, however, they must focus on getting supplies and deciding how to move those supplies. “How long till Durin’s Day?” Thorin questioned as he settled next to them at the table.

“Little less than a month, by my calculations, along with Oin’s to double-check. We have time Thorin,” Balin answered calmly.

“We cannot miss this!”

Dwalin looked at his friend, and King, and wondered if Thorin was starting to get stressed. His hands were clenched in fists, his jaw was practically locked shut, and he had that _rage_ in his eyes that he usually only got when he thought on Erebor, though he quite possibly was.

Dwalin resisted the urge to carefully tug Thorin down, as he did when they were younger, and he watched Balin gently reach out. When Thorin didn’t pull back, Balin carefully took Thorin’s clenched fist between his two hands. “Thorin…there is time.”

Thorin let out a long, and loud, sigh before he relaxed, hands unclenching and he slumped over slightly. “I know. But what if it isn’t enough?”

Balin gently pat Thorin’s hand and sat back. “We’ll be fine, don’t you worry about it.”

Dwalin resisted the urge to snort and nudged Thorin’s leg a bit. “Practice,” Dwalin rumbled and Thorin hesitated before he nodded, heading off to collect Orcist while Dwalin stood up calmly.

“Watch for him?”

“Always.”

*~*~*~*

Kili was frowning a bit as he carefully made more arrows.

He needed more supplies. He was fine with a sword, but he preferred his bow, as it allowed him further range and he carefully set the fletching into place, resisting the urge to growl over the fact it was not his favorite fletching, but he took what he could.

He was sitting on a bench he had dragged outside, out front, and the chill in the air made him wish the glue, also not what he enjoyed using, did not stink so. He had finished balancing the arrow as close as he could to the rest in his quiver when a voice said, “Excuse me.”

Kili looked up to find a grim looking Man, black haired with a close cropped beard and mustache, dressed as one of the soldiers of Lake-town with a longbow and quiver strapped across his back and a sword at his hip. “Bard, at your service,” the soldier greeted.

“Kili, at yours. How may I help you?” Kili questioned.

“I was wondering if I could speak to the leader of your company,” Bard stated and Kili let his eyes run up Bard a bit before he looked back down at his work.

“I can’t promise anything, but I can try,” Kili answered as he slowly stood up, resisting the urge to touch his arrows, where the glue was still drying.

However, he did wince when the harsh sounds of Bilbo coughing came over from balcony and he ignored Bard’s concerned look. “Has one of your company taken ill?” Bard asked and Kili nodded.

“Yes. He’s getting better though,” Kili answered as he began to drag the bench, carefully, closer to the front door was surprised when Bard carefully walked forward and helped him to carry it over.

“My thanks. I shall be back with an answer,” Kili answered and hurried off, wincing as more coughing began to fill the air.

*~*~*~*

Finding Thorin was easy, finding the clear space that could have once been a courtyard where he and Dwalin were fighting with great gusto.

Kili waited until Dwalin managed to get the upper-hand when he called, “Thorin, there is a Man called Bard who wishes to speak with you.”

Thorin disengaged from Dwalin and gave a nod. Kili hesitated and gave Fili and smile, which earned him a smile in return, before he stood up and quietly walked over to Kili, the pair heading back out front. They walked past where Thorin and Bard were quietly talking at the table while they continued to Kili’s bench, the pair rearranging things so they could work on prepping their weapons together, the need to be close rearing up once more.

Kili wasn’t surprised as Fili began to hum and Kili soon joined him, the pair wincing in time to Bilbo’s hacking, near-retching, coughs.

They were still working on the care of their weapons when Bard left, as calm and grim as he had come.

“What was that about?” Kili hissed.

“I wasn’t listening in.”

“We should do that next time.”

They shared equally mischievous grins and then focused back on their weapons, Kili in making arrows, Fili in sharpening and polishing his numerous blades.

And then they were humming once more, until the chill became cold and the light of the day began to die and over the sounds of a town going to sleep, there was the sound of a pair of those door-window things being shut and locked.

“Lads, supper’s ready!” Balin called and the pair packed up, carefully carrying the bench back inside, settling it back against the wall where Kili had found it, the sounds of the Company washing over them, though the distinct lack of Bilbo was keenly felt in the way Bofur frowned at his food and the fact Bombur was not sitting with them.

And the pair immediately focused on trying to cheer Bofur up, even though they knew it was an impossible task.

(Bofur finally smiles when Bombur walks down and says Bilbo drank the tea and gestured for Bofur. No one in the Company, not even Bifur, had seen him run so fast, Bombur laughing as he side-stepped out of the way to let Bofur head up.)

(No one noticed Ori worrying his lip, a frown on his face and his fingers tapping lightly on the table.)


	25. Looking

A relief filled the Company when Bilbo's fever  _finally_ broke at the end of the week, Oin relaxing the most at this, especially when he reported that, to his knowledge, Bilbo was healing well, despite his hobbling on it through the dungeons. He was also now fussing over his treatment and being coddled, which had Bofur grinning and gently nudging his forehead against Bilbo's in a way that had the Dwarves of the Company chuckling over Bofur's obviousness while Ori chewed on his lip more frantically, seeing the opportunity to intervene, to talk to Bofur, get him to approach the situation  _delicately_ was slowly disappearing.

And Ori wasn’t sure when he _could_ , with Dori haunting his steps and asking where he was going, clinging to him.

*~*~*~*

Bofur smiled as he felt Bilbo’s shaking fingers running through his hair as they sat on the balcony, trying to weave the braids back in after Bofur had undone them so he could brush his hair, his hat resting on Bilbo’s head. He winced a bit at Bilbo’s hacking cough that made him turn into his shoulder before he focused back on the braiding, frowning in annoyance. Bofur smiled at the way Bilbo finally got the braid down before he practically collapsed against Bofur, coughing harshly as he tried to regain his breathing while Bofur ran a comforting hand up and down Bilbo’s back.

He gently coaxed Bilbo to look up at him, once the coughing was done and smiled before he gently nudged his forehead against Bilbo’s once again. Bilbo’s eyes closed during the action and Bofur felt as his guilt punch him in the chest.

“Bilbo?” he called gently and Bilbo looked up at him, looking a bit more awake then he had since his fever broke.

“I love you,” he stated simply and that seemed to wake Bilbo up entirely.

He stills almost unnaturally so in Bofur’s gentle grip, the autumn sun shining down on them, and the confusion is there in the small furrow between his eyebrows and the way his nose scrunches just slightly. “I love you, and I have for a while. I think it started back in Rivendell, or at least that is when I can pinpoint it, when I was teaching you the braids, but maybe it was before, and it just grew from that time in Rivendell and…Bilbo, please don’t run away from me on this,” Bofur began to explain softly, steeling himself for this, even as Bilbo tried to run, and Bofur gently nudged his forehead against Bilbo’s again.

“Bilbo, that’s a Dwarvish kiss. I’ve been stealing them for as long as I could get away with it, and I’m not sorry for stealing them,” Bofur continued softly, holding Bilbo gently in his arms, and hoping Bilbo stayed.

Bilbo who trembled and there was a shudder and suddenly Bilbo turned in his grip, burying his head into Bofur’s shoulder, clinging tightly, and Bofur gently held Bilbo’s shaking, quietly sobbing, form.

Bofur held onto him, running fingers through the free curls he could find, absently noting that he would need to fix Bilbo’s braids, but mostly just holding a crying Bilbo.

He then carefully nuzzled the spot behind Bilbo’s ear and whispered, “I love you, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

The words sent another shudder through Bilbo, causing the hobbit to cling tighter, one hand coming up to bury itself into Bofur’s free hair while he buried his face into the crook of Bofur’s neck instead, allowing the tears to soak into his collar and skin instead of his coat.

Bofur tightened his own grip on Bilbo, whispering soothing things, rocking him gently, unsure of why Bilbo was crying, but feeling that this was right, that this was something Bilbo needed.

And despite it making him worried, despite being _terrified_ , deep down, that his feelings weren’t returned, that his confession was for nothing, he knew he could wait till the world burned to have Bilbo gesture those three words back to him.

So he was surprised when, after a coughing fit through the crying, Bilbo slowly lifted himself up, his body shaking more, to gently brush his forehead against Bofur’s.

Bofur stilled before a bright smile spread across his face and he began to brush their foreheads together gently, ever so gently, but excitedly.

It wasn’t _I love you_ , but it settled something in Bofur’s chest.

But the tears that still flowed, the way Bilbo clung desperately, even as he smiled and it did not reach his eyes, and all of this steeled Bofur’s resolve to _ask_. Because he needed to know, now, what caused the tears.

Even if he had to have Ori there to translate Bilbo's answer.

Bofur had no more excuses to hide behind and he was tired of hiding anyway. If he wanted Bilbo, he had to stand in the sun.

It was, after all, where Bilbo belonged.

(Neither notice when Ori steps back out, having slipped in shortly after Bofur’s confessions began, a smile on his face. It is not fixed, it is not healed, but it is a start. He just needs to worry about Bilbo now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balm for everyone's souls.
> 
> We should all now prepare for more angst.


	26. A Plugged Copper Amongst the Gold

Thorin is staring at Erebor again.

Balin frowns a bit at the obsession, uncomfortable with how it only seems to grow with each day.

Thorin is his King, the only one he can follow with all his heart, for he has seen the greatnesswithin Thorin like a diamond in the rough. Has seen it cleaned up and cut with each hardship that Thorin has faced, and now the greatest hardship stands before Thorin, rising like a sentinal out of the mist, the final cut before it is polished and set.

Balin worries, something he rarely does (he leaves the worrying to Dori, in all honesty), and he hasn't, in fact, worried this much since Dis was pregnant with Kili. When she was forced on bed rest near the beginning of the pregnancy, with that same brilliance, that same greatness, within her as well, waiting for that final cut before it was polished and set.

Now, like then, he worries that this will be the cut that the diamond cannot take. That this,  _this_ will be the cut that makes the diamond of greatness shatter into dust.

He can only hope that the end result is like Dis's and that Thorin will remain intact when this is all over.

(Balin, distantly, hopes that his worries are unfounded, but Thorin has not looked away from Erebor for nearly half an hour, and it does not bode well for anyone that Thorin seems drawn to Erebor, instead of to his Company, to his family, within.)

"Thorin," Balin calls and that is enough to draw Thorin away, but only after a few minutes of agonizing waiting until Thorin turns his head from Erebor to follow the way his body is turning.

And the worry floods Balin's veins.

*~*~*~*

Nori sighed, quietly, over the way Dwalin kept reaching for the war-hammer, which he kept closer than Grasper and Keeper (and they too, had secret names, whispered over them as Dwalin forged them, and Nori only knows this because he had been hiding in that forge, trying desperately to keep out of trouble, to not get in any, only to discover the forge held the guard-dwarf that he enjoyed tormenting the most), only to grasp nothing and for his gaze to become shuttered.

“If we could, we would have brought it,” Nori stated and Dwalin glowers at him.

“Brought what?”

“The war-hammer.”

Dwalin gave a snort and focused on cleaning his axes, while Nori leaned close by. “Odd, that hammer,” he mused.

“What about it?” Dwalin growled.

“Light. For you. Not for Ori…or someone Ori’s si-…”

The axe to the throat shuts him up. He forgets, sometimes, how _fast_ Dwalin moves when truly enraged, or truly needs to. And Nori struck a nerve and Nori lets his eyes flicker to the earring in Dwalin’s right ear and, this close, he can see that, once upon a time, it _wasn’t_ an earring or ear cuff as it were, once upon a time, but a _bead._

And Nori stays silent, because he doesn’t know Dwalin’s life, but he knows rage, and guilt, and _pain_ , and that’s where Dwalin is right now.

The thief reaches up and pats the guard-dwarf’s arm, lightly.

Dwalin lowers his ax, and Nori gives a thin smile.

No one comments on the fact they spent the rest of the day sharpening and cleaning their weapons.

*~*~*~*

 _“Bifur, pulling,”_ Bilbo gestured and Bifur huffed.

“Be still,” Bifur retorted in Khuzdul.

Bilbo sighed and gestured, _“As the vein goes, Bifur.”_

“As the vein goes,” Bifur responded and continued to weave Bilbo’s hair back into the braids.

He was feeling better, now that Bilbo was conscious and aware. There were still some trembles, of course, because his adoptee had been sick with a fever that left him delirious half the week, but it was leaving. Bifur smiled as he finished up his work and shifted before he pat Bilbo’s shoulder.

He wasn’t that surprised when Bilbo shifted back until he could curl against Bifur.

Bifur _knew_ that Bilbo was middle-aged, or more specifically, that Bilbo wasn’t a child, but Bifur was glad to see that the little Hobbit felt safe enough to curl against Bifur as he did.

It also allowed them to have a gestured conversation.

 _“Will Bofur stop?”_ Bilbo gestured.

 _“Do you want him to?”_ Bifur responded, just as quickly with his gestures.

Bilbo hesitated and then shook his head.

 _“Best to have a conversation with him,”_ Bifur stated.

_“As the vein goes?”_

_“As the vein goes.”_

*~*~*~*

“Ori, where have you been?” Dori fussed as Ori stepped in, immediately becoming smothered by his eldest brother.

Ori frowned a bit, even as he stepped out of the doorway so Oin, Kili, and Fili could enter. “I went with Oin. I told you this morning,” Ori answered and Dori frowned a bit.

“I remember. But you weren’t around,” Dori answered.

“Ori told you we were staying here?” Kili asked, using Ori as an arm rest while Fili chuckled over the way Oin had paused, frowning slightly.

“Well, where were you?” Dori fussed and Ori sighed.

“There’s a healer. Oin wanted to get some ingredients, and we were helping her today. Her and her assistant. Kili was getting in some training and Fili joined us, since he overheard me telling you we were going to the local healer’s today,” Ori responded calmly, resisting the urge to send his eyes to the ceiling as Fili used his other shoulder as an arm rest.

“I do remember that,” Fili stated, tugging on one of his moustache braids.

Dori looked lost, even as Oin tugged on Kili’s hair, lightly. “Come along. Bilbo still has some of those injuries on his arm. I want to check them before Bombur and Gloin part about their mutual pining over their wives,” Oin grumbled and Kili laughed lightly.

Fili glanced over, and smiled before looking back over. “Ori wrote up ingredients and the local names of some water plants that she used. He also sketched them, and Oin said he would translate them into the Khuzdul for Ori later. All in all, a very productive day,” Fili added.

Dori nodded absently, even as he brushed Ori’s hair flat, or tried to.

Ori stood there calmly under his brother’s ministrations. “Actually, he probably should now,” Fili stated, earning a startled look from Dori and Ori.

“Oin should translate now. Bilbo needs Khuzdul lessons anyway. And I know Bifur has taken to using Bofur for braiding lessons to show Bilbo the things and growling out their meanings and how they were done, Broadbeam braids and Longbeard ones too. I wonder how Bifur knows those,” Fili explained.

“We could ask Bifur. I was going to visit Bilbo later, anyway. He slips into his home gestures whenever he gets nervous and he and Bofur are actually going to talk like the adults they are, which I find quite refreshing,” Ori stated and looked to Dori, as always.

“When did you learn his gesture language?” Dori asked.

“Rivendell. You walked in at the end of the lesson. It has some Ranger signs in it, so he says “unit” instead of “family”, but the intent behind the word is the same. However, sometimes he does this odd flick, to show his indifference to the situation, in a way. When he really means _unit_ instead of family. That took a while to piece together, because it really is subtle,” Ori responded cheerfully, bouncing lightly on his feet.

Dori nodded and Ori beamed before he turned and hurried up the stairs, followed quickly by Fili.

And Dori wondered when his baby brother had grown up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin wears an ear cuff in/on his right ear, but it always looked like a hair bead to me. As it used to be a hair bead and now isn't.
> 
> The war-hammer that Ori swings around is Dwalin's and Ori swings it with ease.
> 
> Ori, unlike the rest of the Company, hasn't really trained up those muscles needed. Oh, I don't doubt that Ori is a vicious little fighter when push comes to shove and, really, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of one of his quills, but for the strength and core building needed to swing that around, he would need a lighter one than what Dwalin would use.
> 
> It stood out in my head, how Ori slung that thing around with, some, ease.
> 
> And that was how the idea of Malin was born.


	27. Travelling to the Foot of the Lonely Mountain (Graphic Violence, Nightmare)

Bofur and Bilbo never got a chance to talk as, once Bilbo stopped sounding like he was going to cough out his lungs, the wet sound dying away to dry hacks, Thorin began to prepare them to leave. With Durin's Day drawing ever closer, Thorin seemed to grow more impatient, to the point where Bilbo had taken to keeping to Bombur so Thorin would either miss Bilbo in the instructions, allowing Bilbo to help Bombur, or any of the others that weren't doing much moving, or just assign Bilbo to balancing the weight of their bags with Dwalin so the pack ponies they had managed to procure would be evenly balanced.

(Balin had told Bilbo they had done small work and odd jobs as trade for their supplies, but Bilbo had only raised an eyebrow, before gesturing about the Master of Lake-town, which had Balin frowning at the reminder and Bilbo nodding in agreement, having only met the Man once and felt the Master of Lake-town about as trustworthy as a diseased Warg.)

Bilbo watched Thorin with some wariness now, on the night before they were to leave, knowing when someone was dangerous from years of being with his Took cousins, of learning who to avoid because he was broken and none would care about him.

Because no one would want...

He mentally began to pound his head against a wall, trying to stop the self-loathing that was starting to curl through his mind.

His hands clenched into fists against his knees and he curled over until his forehead gently thunked against the table, trying his best to reign in everything, trying his hardest to keep from spiraling into self-doubt, because it has no place, and besides, it was  _him_ , not anyone else, who had gotten thirteen Dwarves out from under an Elven King’s nose.

 _He_ , insignificant Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, had saved the Dwarves of this Company from certain death many times over, and with the help of a magic ring and...

Bilbo swallowed a bit.

He really wasn't much without it, was he?

( _But you saved Thorin. That was all you, dear one,_ his mother's voice whispers again, after being silent for months, and he'd really rather not think about the fact he's  _fifty-one_ now and he didn't gives his friends gifts, because he's been unable to make any, and he'll make apologies for it later, because they don't have time  _now._ )

He nearly jumped right out of his skin as a hand came to rest on his back and he looked up, right into Bofur's concerned eyes.

"Ye all right Bilbo?" Bofur asked softly before he carefully sat next to Bilbo, eyes searching.

Bilbo hesitated and then he shook his head 'no'. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, carefully curling his arm around Bilbo's shoulders, rubbing his thumb along Bilbo's shoulder joint, but Bilbo couldn't answer, because he isn't sure how to explain that he fears for Thorin, but unsure why, and he doesn't trust the Master of Lake-town, and all he wants is them all safe and he can't help but think that where they are going is anywhere but safe. That everything is going to get  _worse_ , and he holds onto Bofur's jacket, hiding his face in Bofur's chest.

He curled his arms around Bofur's neck and buried his head into the crook of Bofur's neck when he felt the behatted Dwarf lift him up. He holds onto Bofur as tightly as he would allow himself, and felt Bofur's grip adjust slightly to hold him closer. "Let's get some sleep, yeah?" Bofur responded and Bilbo nodded, feeling them head upstairs.

*~*~*

_There was blood, and bodies, everywhere. The mud was churned up in front of the Lonely Mountain and everything was death. Dwarves, Elves, Men, Orcs with their Wargs, and Goblins were strewn across the field, corpses riddled with arrows and cuts and some with limbs far flung from their bodies._

_But Bilbo’s eyes were darting, finding the Company among them, scattered, and broken._

_He was a sprig of grass amongst the dead lands and he dropped to his knees with a scream._

Bilbo panted as he scrambled upright, sweat clinging to his skin, his hair curling out of his braids. He shivered and shook before he curled over in the bed, silent sobs shook through his body as he clung to the blankets, wringing his fingers through them when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and he looked up to find Bifur staring at him.

Then Bifur was urging him against his chest and Bilbo clung to him, hands shaking before he noticed that Bifur was signing in Iglishmek and growling lowly in Khuzdul.

_“Before the Maker was the Maker, he was simply Mahal, and he kept to his mountain hall, content to forge great works until, one day like any other, he left his forget to collect more wood from the forest that grew at the foot of the mountains his halls were built into. Upon entering the forest, he saw the most beautiful woman in all of Creation; Buzninh…”_

Bilbo’s eyes began to slip closed as this story began to weave itself around another from the past.

_Long, long ago, when the Green Lady was young still, she was taking a walk through the Real Forests at the foot of the High Mountains, when she ran across the Stone King. In the moment their eyes met, she felt as if something had irrevocably changed between them, despite never seeing eye-to-eye with him before…_

(The next morning, when they get ready to set off, and Bifur complains about his lack of boar spear and growls at the way Bofur hefts his mattock more onto his shoulder, Bilbo is thankful the two stories are so similar, because, for the first time since being told the story of his youth, he could see how a Hobbit could love a Dwarf, and a Dwarf love a Hobbit, and make it work. And that was something much nicer to sleep to than death.)


	28. To the Foot of the Lonely Mountain

Bilbo frowned from where he was settled on top of one of the pack ponies, his hands curling into the pony’s mane before he glanced at Bofur, who was in charge of this particular pony.

Probably so Bofur could keep a close eye on Bilbo and keep them from losing their Burglar.

 _“I can walk, or at least not be made a burden,”_ he gestured, once he had Bofur looking up at him, and Bofur chuckled before he leaned up while he gently tugged Bilbo down to nuzzle his forehead against Bilbo’s.

“No need to strain that ankle of yours. Would be bad all over for you and the less strain you put on it, the better off the entire Company is,” Bofur stated and Bilbo felt himself flushing at Bofur’s low tones, even as Bofur nuzzled their foreheads together again.

“Besides, what use are we without our Burglar?” Bofur added quietly and dropped back down to stand properly next to the pony while Bilbo tried to get his flushed face back under control.

He clung to the pony’s mane once more as he looked around, finding that he was the only one placed on the back of a pack pony, but he also knew that any arguments would be ignored and that he would not get to join the rest in their trek to the Lonely Mountain. “We move out,” Thorin rumbled and they began to move as one, Bilbo clinging to the pony’s mane as they began to move, feeling oddly disconnected from the Company in a way that he hadn’t felt since they first started.

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that when he had just found his place amongst them.

*~*~*

Bifur rested a hand on Bilbo’s lower back as he helped his Adoptee get a stronger grip on the rope lines that Bofur and Nori had managed to set up to get them safely to where the rock flat that had the secret door amongst the rocks, somewhere. He glanced back at his younger cousin, but Bombur had already decided that he would not climb up the rope lines and if Bifur’s pleading look could not get the cook to change his mind, Bifur knew nothing would.

As it stood, Bofur had already said he would be swinging back down to keep his brother company, Bifur staying up above, near the secret door, with Bilbo.

 _“You’ll do fine,”_ Bifur gestured as he helped secure Bilbo to the line and the Hobbit looked at him, with eyes wide.

Bilbo then gestured something that Bifur didn’t understand, before he carefully knocked his head against Bifur’s forehead, deftly avoiding the ax, before he looked up. Bifur nodded and Bilbo tugged at the line and then it was like watching Bilbo disappear. He seemed to become one with the rock and he was up far faster than they could pull the rope taunt, staring down at Bifur with a wave. He then dropped the rope back down and Bifur shook his head before helping to get Ori secure and sending him up.

*~*~*

Bilbo frowned as they mused over the words, before he smiled at the thrush that alighted on the rock he was sitting next to. He whistled lowly and the thrush responded eagerly, hopping up onto Bilbo’s offered hand. The thrush fluffed up and, in the mid-afternoon light, suddenly took off, flying away.

Bilbo watched the bird go and turned, only to find that Thorin was in a low, grumbling, argument with Balin. He frowned at that, keenly missing Bofur and Bombur, before he turned more to see that Nori was privately fussing over Ori, who was letting him, while Dori fussed not so secretively over Nori.

It was a rather adorable scene, and showed the change that they had happened between the Brothers Ri.

Bilbo thought Dori was focusing so much on Nori because Ori had asserted his independence, somewhere along the way. He was about to catch Ori’s attention when two forms dropped down next to him and he looked up to find he was being framed by Fili and Kili, who were watching Thorin with concern in their gaze. “Um…how do you gesture _sundown_?” Kili asked softly.

Bilbo gave a smile and showed him, just in time to have the thrush return with a cheerful chirp. Bilbo smiled while Fili laughed softly at the thrush that seemed quite taken with Bilbo, when a voice, croaking and raspy, greeted, “Which is King Under the Mountain?”

Heads snapped up, though Bilbo’s neck ached something fierce from the action, as all eyes landed on a wizened and elderly raven.

Bilbo felt he could be forgiven for letting his jaw drop in shock.


	29. Knock, Knock, Knocking

Thorin had quickly stepped forward upon hearing the raven speak, and introduced himself, thinly veiled impatience in every word, but the raven seemed unconcerned by it.

Most likely because he himself was impatient and introduced himself as Roäc. The name seemed to mean something to both Thorin and Balin and that was enough to have the pair immediatly begin discussions with the raven, once they had dragged Fili and Kili into it.

Bilbo, however, remained unconcerned by it all, his ears twitching slightly as he picked up their words, though he focused mainly on the thrush, who seemed to be eyeing the snails that climbed about the flat rock Bilbo rested near.

If Bilbo didn't know better, he would think that he was sitting on a front porch. He gently pet the thrush and said thrush eyed him before suddenly fluttering over, grabbed a snail, and began to tap it against the wall.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Bilbo watched, curious, as the thrush continued the harsh beating of a snail against the rock.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Bilbo wondered how long the thrush was going to knock...

His eyes widened and he was on his feet and rushing to where Thorin and Balin were talking, Fili and Kili looking equally fascinated and bored with the events, something that would have amused Bilbo, were he in a different state of mind. Instead, he ignores the important conversation they are having and grabs onto Thorin's arm first, tugging lightly in hopes of getting the King to turn around, to _see_ where the _knock, knock, knocking_ is coming from, for all that it sounds like tapping.

"What Burglar?" Thorin snapped, but Bilbo shoves aside the hurt those words in _that tone_ causes, ignores the fact that the words and tones make Bilbo think of the early days of the quest, and instead points to where the thrush is still knocking on the stone.

Thorin's eyes narrowed and then widened as he registered what he was seeing. Balin, in the meantime, chuckled and clapped Bilbo's shoulder. "Well done laddie," he praised, but Bilbo releases Thorin as the king begins to stride forward.

Roäc is watching with shining eyes as the sun sets and illuminates the keyhole, the thrush having stopped his knocking at Thorin’s approach and winged his way over to Bilbo, landing on the Hobbit's shoulder while Thorin withdrew the key and then he was unlocking the door, swinging it open, the air whooshing softly, allowing the stale, dusty air to collide with the fresh and Bilbo stared at the long dark tunnel and knew, in that moment, that it was all going to come to a head.

When Thorin turned to face the Company again, Bilbo felt his stomach clench and heard the thrush twitter nervously, for Thorin's eyes were near fever bright and Bilbo didn't hesitate to grab onto Balin's sleeve as fear made the bile rise in his throat.

Balin pat his shoulder comfortingly, but it did little to ease Bilbo's concerns as the sun finally sunk below the horizon.

*~*~*

The decision to head down the night was made by Bilbo, for why should he risk the danger later when he could get it over with, somewhat,  _now_. 

He wanted Bofur, he wanted to hug and cling to the miner/toymaker before he went down the dark tunnel and he took deep breaths, before he began to move forward, a small limp in his step, which made Oin mutter and curse into his beard, but no one tried to stop him.

Balin went with him, a quiet and comforting presence at his back, but he only went halfway.

The thrush had kept with Bilbo, but was silent, and Bilbo wondered why the bird stayed. He had tried to get the innocent creature to fly back, but the bird just crouched a bit tighter, and Bilbo knew there was nothing he could do to send him back.

May the Green Lady preserve them both, though calling upon the Stone King would probably be more accurate.

The thrush fluttered next to his face and Bilbo hesitated before he left the ring alone in his pocket.

He had a companion and, while being unseen would be good if the dragon was awake and alive, he also knew that there had to be other things, other places to hide.

Bilbo Baggins would rely on his Hobbit blood and his ways and not some magic ring he found in the bowels of a mountain that was infested with goblins.

He moved with silence and dexterity and hesitated to ‘hide’ as he had been taught, feeling a sickness tainting the very stone and he worried insantly for the Dwarves outside.

What would happen, once they entered this mountain?

Would the sickness infect them? Would they be lost?

Would Bilbo watch his friends, his family, _and the one he loved_ descend into madness, like how Thorin seemed to be doing?

The flutter and fluff of the thrush against the cheek brings him back to himself, and Bilbo is moving, a whisper of air across the gold as he keeps to the piles, looking for any changes, wondering where the dragon is, because deep down he thinks the dragon is still _here_ and _not dead_ and Bilbo keeps silent with his passenger on his shoulder.

He sees a cup, great and beautiful, made of silver and studded with sapphires, and it is close to the entrance and then he hears a rumble. He sinks into the coins, carefully, and they barely give, the thrush tense against him, far more intelligent than any other bird Bilbo has met before and he wonders if this is one of Radaghast’s birds, if being so close to the Wizard has given the bird some sort of insight that can only be attained by keeping close to a Wizard.

Gold begins to clatter and ring and Bilbo peeks out to find a red, reptilian head rising out of the gold, golden-yellow eyes searching. “I can _smell you_ ,” he growled out and Bilbo felt his heart speed up, and he has to concentrate to keep his breathing calm and the head swings around, searching and there are deep breaths, smoke rising from the great dragon’s nostrils and Bilbo is in a near panic before he notices the silver chalice with the sapphires.

When Smaug’s head swings away, Bilbo grabs the chalice and runs out. There is a no roar of rage, nothing to suggest that Smaug has noticed the loss, but Bilbo knows the legends of dragons and knows it will only be a matter of time, and Bilbo is in the tunnel, running as fast as he can, terror thrumming through his veins and he stumbles past Balin and into the cool air, collapsing to the ground as the thrush chitters, and moves, but does not leave the trembling Hobbit, who is sobbing and shaking.

He finally manages to get coherent enough to shove the chalice into Thorin’s hands, ignoring the worried voices, and then he’s heaving, everything colliding within his stomach, making him retch, and someone, he’s not sure, is helping him up onto his feet, the Hobbit trembling all over and helping him to retch somewhere.

When he finally manages to look up, it is into Bifur’s concerned eyes.

And around the fire, everyone but Bifur and Balin are staring at the chalice Thorin is holding in triumph.

And Bilbo is suddenly far more frightened of Thorin then he will ever be of Smaug.

He feels sick and hurt, because he _knows_ , in that moment, what is wrong with Thorin.

The sickness that had infected Thror is infecting Thorin.

And it is _spreading_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, originally, that Roäc didn't appear till after Smaug's death, but I like the old raven and I figured that the raven, who has been waiting for Thorin, essentially, most of his life, he wasn't going to wait. However, both in this and the book, the thrush brought the raven to the Company.


	30. With Fire and Brimstone

Bilbo really didn't want to go back. He wanted Bofur, but he was remaining down below with Bombur and, even with the gesturing of it towards Bifur, Thorin seemed to want him to go back  _now_. Now, when the dragon raged and growled within still.

He could  _hear_ Smaug and Bilbo wasn't going to be heading inside anytime soon, not until Smaug had calmed down somewhat.

Not that he thought that the dragon was going to calm down anytime soon and he resisted the urge to attempt to slap sense into Thorin's head.

He didn't think it would work.

The night passed restlessly, with Bifur having physically placed himself between Bilbo and Thorin when Thorin got too pushy about sending Bilbo back into the Mountain for more proof of the treasure. Bilbo had clung desperately to Bifur's sleeve and had hidden his face into Bifur's back.

When morning had come, Smaug was silent and the Thrush had returned, settling on Bilbo's shoulder as he seemed inclined to do.

Bilbo spared a moment to gentle pet the Thrush's head, but when everything seemed to be going so very wrong, it was hard to be cheery.

Especially when Thorin said that the silence meant that Smaug had settled back down.

Bilbo thought that meant that Smaug was watching the exit like a cat watched a mouse hole and he was going to be eaten.

 _"Tell Bofur that I love_ him,"Bilbo signed, privately, to Bifur.

 _"Tell him yourself,"_ Bifur responded, gently reaching up to tug at Bilbo's braids before he, so very carefully, bumped his forehead to Bilbo's.

It was both to keep himself from accidently bludgeoning Bilbo and because Bilbo’s skull was not as thick as a Dwarf’s, something that Bilbo was thankful for. Bilbo looked up at him and then pulled away before he darted down the hallway to Smaug.

He found the darkness pressing and he clung to the wall.

He was as silent as a ghost in an Elf King’s halls (and he had been called that, even, within Thranduil’s palace) and he picked his way through, worried that one wrong misstep would have Smaug breathing flames down the passage way.

He paused at the doorway, eyes searching the piles of gold and he shrunk against the wall.

But the mountains of treasure (supposedly; Bilbo thought it was a bit of misnomer) gave no suggestion of where Smaug could be and he carefully looked up without peeking out, the Thrush tensing against his shoulder, almost twisting around slightly to look with Bilbo but, from his vantage point, there was no Smaug within the high ceilings.

He swallowed nervously and began to slip down, when Smaug suddenly leapt out of the gold with a roar. Bilbo attempted to run back into the tunnel when Smaug’s tail snapped forward, sending coins and gems flying, before slamming in front of Bilbo, forcing him to stop.

Bilbo spun back around, the Thrush letting out startled cries as Smaug lunged forward, pinning Bilbo to the wall with a snarl. “Why have you returned Thief?”

Smaug’s voice may have been a whisper, but it still made Bilbo’s chest ache and he gasped, causing Smaug to pull back slightly with a low growl.

His head weaved through the air as he pulled back slightly, though not far enough away to let Bilbo escape, unless he was very careful. “Has fear stolen your voice?” Smaug demanded and Bilbo shook his head.

Smaug shifted his head and suddenly settled down to eye him. “You are always so silent, then?” he questioned, eyeing Bilbo from the bottom of his furry feet to the top of his curly head.

He seemed to find amusement in his ears, as he chuckled when his eye settled on them, before he focused back on Bilbo’s face in time for a nod. Smaug let out another chuckle and he pulled back slightly again. “Well, well, this is interesting,” Smaug chuckled out as his tail twisted slightly to rest closer to Bilbo, forcing Bilbo to take another step down into Smaug’s lair.

“Well, well, how shall I ask you questions?” he questioned softly, looking now as if amusement had overruled his rage.

Smaug twisted his tail again and Bilbo stepped away again. The Thrush twittered softly and Bilbo glanced nervously up at the tail before he looked back at Smaug’s head.

Smaug seemed to smirk at that, mostly with the way he had shifted his head and he twisted his tail closer again, sending Bilbo stumbling down into a treasure hill. “There now,” Smaug chuckled and immediately moved his tail so it encircled Bilbo but did not touch, sinking down into the treasure in front of the smaller pile.

A new pile.

Bilbo covered his face at that, realizing that Smaug had spent the night plotting out how to capture him. Smaug let out another chuckle and Bilbo looked up to find Smaug staring at him.

“But, how to talk to you?” he mused and Bilbo shrugged a bit before he gestured at Smaug and then cupped his hands together before he spread them, his gesture for ‘grand’.

Smaug quirked his head to the side, and let out a low rumble, though it wasn’t a bad rumble.

At least, Bilbo hoped not.

“Does that mean…grand?” Smaug questioned and Bilbo nodded.

Smaug immediately began to preen and Bilbo would have dropped his jaw, were it not for the fact that he didn’t want to die.

The tail shifted, but in a way to give Bilbo more room.

“You think I am grand?” Smaug questioned gleefully.

Bilbo nodded, for it wasn’t a lie.

He didn’t feel like risking his life to see if there was any truth in the fact a dragon could smell a lie. “What else do you think I am Thief?” Smaug questioned and Bilbo wondered if this was because Smaug was so very bored.

Bilbo considered and then he motioned at his chest, remembering the gleaming gems that had lodged themselves in Smaug’s underbelly, before he tried to think of how to mention ‘magnificent’. He cupped his hands again, spreading them, and making his hands ‘flutter’ slightly while Smaug eyed him.

“Something similar to grand, but greater?” Smaug questioned and Bilbo nodded.

His tail twitched happily and he _purred_ before he settled down more to rest his head right in front of Bilbo, contorting his body slightly in a manner that was distinctly serpentine, while cat-like at the same time.

It made Bilbo feel like he was mouse that was cornered.

“Magnificent?” Smaug purred out and Bilbo nodded.

Smaug let out a happy purr and shivered all over, his wings fluttering slightly, his tail twisting slightly before he settled. Bilbo carefully gestured at his eyes, then at his chest and Smaug considered before he slowly lifted himself up, allowing Bilbo to see his chest glittering and gleaming with jewels and gold.

But amongst all that, was a spot. A gap that should not have been there and the Thrush let out a low whistle, which had Bilbo nodding in agreement. Smaug chuckled and settled back down, before he eyed Bilbo. “Now…what are you Thief?” he asked and Bilbo stumbled back into Smaug’s tail when Smaug suddenly surged forward.

Bilbo swallowed and realized that Smaug had him trapped far more tightly now.

Bilbo gulped and ducked down in fear as heat began to build, heat passing near him.

It took him a while to realize that Smaug had covered him with his tail, somehow, and when freed, he found the wall charred and smoking.

Smaug chuckled and shifted slightly so that Bilbo was between his paws. “If you amuse me enough, Thief, I think I shall keep you as a pet to entertain me for the rest of your days,” Smaug mused and Bilbo trembled slightly.

“Now,” Smaug stated and suddenly the tail tip flipped a metal rod up near Bilbo’s feet.

“I think you shall show me the answers to my questions, Thief. That shall suffice until it cool enough for you to use your hands.”

And Bilbo trembled slightly before he immediately stepped forward to do just that.


	31. Why Giving Names to a Dragon is Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:
> 
> Smaug's POV
> 
> A dragon contemplating locking someone up in a cage and either eating them after they are dead or eating them when they lose entertainment value
> 
> A dragon contemplating eating Dwarves.
> 
> A dragon calling a Hobbit an "it".
> 
> One chapter, maybe two, after this and then I get to start on the next part, if my writing stays on track.

Smaug watched as the little thief stepped forward and carefully drew through the soot with the metal rod.

He truly did not care what the creature was, for it was a thief and would be called so by Smaug until he either grew tired of the creature or it died of old age. And if he kept it locked in a little cage, it would not get too tough and he could have a snack in fifty or so years.

Oh, that was a nice plan.

He  _liked_  that plan. He might possibly lock the creature up in the cage first and go around and eat up the Dwarves he could smell outside his mountain.

His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled slowly, practically savoring the scent that was almost as good as taste.

He glanced down when the scraping finished and saw that it had drawn a spider web cut through. However, with no spider, Smaug took a stab. "Web-cutter?" he questioned, inhaling deeply and it nodded frantically.

There, almost beyond his ability to smell, the scent of spiders and forest.

_The Elf Forest._

But too short to be an Elf. And it did not smell like an Elf, but it had come from there.

"What are you Thief?" he questioned again and it began to draw more.

He inhaled deeply and he almost smirked at the scent of fear that wafted up from the little thing.

And then it drew a fly stinging. "Stinging-fly. My, that fits," Smaug rumbled out and sunk closer to the ground, increasing the scent of fear.

He flicked his tail, and took the rod with it, with a snort. "The wall should be cool enough," Smaug stated as he settled down more as it stumbled forward to draw as best as he could on the wall.

 _Clue-finder_  was a difficult one to decipher, but amusing.

 _Ringwinner_  was the easiest of all and he had shown his displeasure at that be growling out insults down at it.

 _Luckwearer_  made up for the ease of  _Ringwinner_  and he let his pleasure be known about that by purring deep within his chest.

And then...

"Barrel-rider," Smaug hissed and he twisted, sending gold and jewels flying.

Rage burned through his veins instead of fire and he roared to the ceiling, shaking dirt and dust from stone around them. The creature between his claws shrunk into his hoard while the twittering, irritating, bird fluttered about its head. "I  _knew_  I should have burned all those Men to ash when I had the chance all those years ago!" he snarled, feeling his rage burn and he let out a screech, his wings flaring out.

He twisted to catch Thief, only to find it gone.

He snarled and twisted around, immediately taking to the exit he had made some time ago, over the battlements as he winged around the mountain, inhaling frantically.

Dwarves, thirteen of them.

Which, of course, meant that it was there for a Lucky Number. A thief of  _convenience_  not trade.

Smaug snarled at that, simultaneously furious and amused that an amateur thief had stolen from him. "Mr. Lucky Number...well, we'll see about that, shall we?" he growled lowly as he picked up speed, the wind roaring to announce his presence.

"Dragon!" came a bellow, a familiar bellow, one he had heard when he first raced toward Erebor, and there are shouts, panicked shouts and he's turning, only to see the door slid into rock.

Ponies are running from his hoard, but he blasted the mountain side before he flew away, racing back to the Man town on the water.

 _This time_  he was going to burn them to the ground.

Them  _and_  that forest.

*~*~*

The Thrush fluttered a bit as Bilbo released him into the air as the Company rushed about, the roar and fury of the dragon making his heart pound.

He did not need more encouragement to fly off and out, toward the Men of the Lake.

He would bring them all information he must.

The Odd Being who riddled with a dragon would never forgive himself it the Men died for the Dwarves' safety.

Besides, the archer that led the town’s guard was quite good with a bow.

It would not be long now and the Thrush knew it.

He dove for cover as the dragon rushed toward the town and trembled before he took after the dragon, flying as fast as he could to danger, even when his instincts screamed at him to turn back.

He would _not_ fail the Odd Being.

He was a Friend and thrushes did _not_ fail their _friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> The Thrush was unexpected.
> 
> (You've read the book, I hope. You all know how this goes, I would hope. I'm not typing it out, it doesn't change.)


	32. A Light in a Dark Place

Bofur wrapped his arms tightly around Bilbo as the dragon raged outside, murmuring nonsense comfort words into his ear. He felt Bilbo burying himself into his embrace and, mentally, cursed the fact that they were once more in the dark.

He could hear the others as well, Kili muttering about how stuffy it was and then he felt Bilbo tugging a bit, as if to get free. "Bilbo?" he questioned and smiled when he felt Bilbo tug lightly at his scarf.

Another slight pull and Bofur, reluctantly, let Bilbo go. He felt Bilbo move away and then heard the muttered sounds as Bilbo began to slip his way through the crowd of Dwarves before the sounds of him heading inside the Mountain could be heard. "What do you think you are doing Master Baggins?" Thorin asked, his irritation clear, though  _why_ Thorin was irritated, Bofur had no idea.

Instead, he heard a grunt and, through the darkness, he saw Bilbo leading Thorin into the mountain.

Bofur felt one of his eyebrows raise, but the rest followed as Bilbo began to lead them into Erebor proper. “What if the dragon comes back?” Kili asked and there was a gentle “shush” from Fili, that was possibly meant to be comforting, but Bofur was pretty sure was far from it, and then he laid eyes on the treasure room.

Sunlight was still pouring in, the gold and gems gleaming and glittering about. Bilbo had stepped out of the way as Thorin looked around and Balin stepped forward with a small frown. “We best get to one of the out of the way place, in case the dragon comes back. We don’t want to be in this open place,” Balin stated and Thorin seemed to be torn before he nodded in agreement, leading the way through.

Bofur just looked over the gold as they clambered through as quickly as they could and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand touch his arm.

When he turned to tell the other off, he found himself staring down into Bilbo’s concerned face.

Odd, that.

Bofur smiled and pat Bilbo’s hand before helping him over a difficult hill of treasure before he smiled back at Bilbo. “Emeralds like your Shire,” he stated and Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him, just in time for Bofur to slip and slide backwards down the pile of treasure to follow the rest of the group into a side hallway that was too narrow for Smaug to, easily, enter.

“This leads toward Raven Hill. We’ll be able to escape quickly this way, if need be,” Balin stated and Thorin gave a sound of agreement.

As they settled out of the way, Bofur found himself fiddling with one of the gold coins that he had in his sleeve when he slipped.

He nearly jumped out of his skin again when he felt someone rest against him and a glance proved that it was Bilbo once more, who was cuddling against his side.

Bofur didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around Bilbo, only to look around to find that the rest of the Company was asleep, or getting ready to.

Hadn’t he just pulled out the coin?

Bofur gave a shrug and put the coin away, curling around Bilbo and nearly pulling him out of sight of the others as he joined the others in sleep.

*~*~*

Bilbo went with Thorin and Balin to Raven Hill when, after two days of peace (and cram), they decided to go ask the ravens what they knew.

Well, Balin deciding and Thorin agreed, which was starting to worry Bilbo.

It was as if Thorin had changed, and not for the better, the King-Under-the-Mountain slowly being corrupted by the greed of gold instead of his desire for a home. The path was long and dark, and Bilbo had been so sure of stumbling that he nearly went back to Bofur, except...

Well, Bofur was just as bad off. His eyes kept falling to the coin that had come away with him, along with Nori and Gloin. Dwalin would side-eye the gold at times and the younger ones seemed content to sort of toss back and forth some of the less noticed pieces that kept catching their eyes of whatever slipped into that hallway.

Bilbo hoped that Lake-town had not suffered too many casualties and already knew what he would use his share for. He would, of course, not take his entire share, but maybe seventh of his share would do.

That should aid the Men of Lake-town in rebuilding and possibly pay for funerals.

Except...

Bilbo was pulled from his dark thoughts as they stepped up into what could only be a Dwarven built aviary. Ravens were everywhere, and the eldest one flew to Thorin's upheld arm.

"All hail Thorin, King-Under-the-Mountain, for Smaug is dead, slain by Bard of Lake-town," the old raven greeted.

Thorin, and Balin, immediately dropped into conversing within Khuzdul, and most of the words weren't ones that Bilbo understood, though he was soon distracted by the Thrush fluttering up to him. Bilbo smiled as the Thrush landed on his shoulder and he gently reached up to pet the Thrush before he focused on the two, who seemed to be excited.

"But this doesn't solve our other problem," Thorin stated, once he had thanked Roäc.

"Other problem, Thorin?" Balin questioned, sounding hesitant and Bilbo immediately looked over at them, focused once more on the two Dwarves he had followed by order.

"The Arkenstone," Thorin answered and immediate strode back into the mountain.

Balin followed with a low sigh and Bilbo hesitated before he quickly rushed after them. With the threat of the dragon gone, and his clothes permanently stained from where he had rubbed the soot off of his hands and onto them, he had no reason to attempt to get out of it, even if he limped along now.

Probably a permanent thing now, maybe.

It wasn't bad, mostly a tiny hitch.

He'd have Oin look at it later.

(Much later; Oin was another that was getting distracted by gold and gems and, until he snapped out of it, Bilbo wasn't letting him near his ankle.)

*~*~*

Bilbo sighs as he balances on the top of a hill of treasure towards the back of the treasure room, wondering why no one was telling him what the stupid rock looked like, even after four days of searching.

He just kept shoving big jewels and gems down where others could find them, trying to figure out what would make a Dwarf praise one above another.

He couldn’t see any of it though.

They were just…pretty rocks.

His arms pin wheeled as he misstepped and he suddenly found himself at the bottom of the pile. He huffed a sigh and rubbed his head, turning over when he noticed there was some light peeking through the coins.

He carefully reached in and blinked in surprise when he found himself carefully cupping a jewel in his hands that was small enough to fit in one of the pockets of the coat he had been given by Beorn.

Faint tendrils of light came from it and he smiled a little.

It was a bit like the crystals that young Hobbits found. They could often be used to make glowing things and he wondered how this had been created.

He turned it around in his hands again and was about to bring it out to show Bifur, as Bofur had been odd lately; always focusing on the treasure and muttering about how the faster they found the Arkenstone, the sooner they could get their treasure.

Bilbo thought it was all just a bunch of useless, shiny, metal with pretty rocks thrown in for variety, and he was resolved to ask Bifur about this crystal, when shouts of Men approaching the gate echoed throughout the treasury.

He promptly put it in his pocket and, in his rush to get over the hill and to the battlements, forgot about the strange crystal he found.

(Later, he would wish he hadn’t.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two is done.
> 
> Part three should be up by Friday and hopefully no later.
> 
> (I'm trying to organize thoughts and I like my cliff-hangers.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Malin's Tale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/671141) by [Moon_Rose (Moonrose91)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moon_Rose)




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